


stake me out tonight (i don't wanna let you go)

by peraltiagoisland



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, also pretend that rosa still be dealing with the giggle pig problem, and uh idk, but its real bold of yall to assume i know what im doing, i know people usually put sexual tags in here, it's more important than this entire fic, it's not that important that you watch it but, just do it, like first 30 minutes at least, nike™, okay a few things to note, okay im getting distracted fuck, pretend that jake and sophia already broke up before this "episode"", this is an AU where jake and amy go on that 8 day stakeout instead of charles, watch oh hello on broadway by john mulaney and nick kroll??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 18:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peraltiagoisland/pseuds/peraltiagoisland
Summary: Having no open cases and nothing to lose, Jake and Amy embark on a quest to stay locked up in a hotel room for eight days together (kidding, they were assigned to work on a stakeout and Jake made a bet with Rosa stipulating that he and Amy survive the full duration). The only problem? Feelings. Feelings are a big, big problem.





	stake me out tonight (i don't wanna let you go)

**Author's Note:**

> hi this fic is gonna be a real doozy so im for srs when i say please set out a big chunk o time for u to lie in bed as u read this
> 
> also if u plan to leave me a really cool long comment appreciating all parts of this fic that will change my mind about how uploading a super long fic as a one shot is a bad idea then i suggest u like start a separate document and leave notes/reactions as u read that would facilitate u if u really love my ass and want me to be rewarded for this trash
> 
> god i really hope this doesn't suck

**DAY 0 | 0907 HOURS**  
  
“Listen up, gang,” Terry announces as he walks into the briefing room behind Captain Holt. “We have intel on a drop house used by Alexei Bisko, a Captain in the Ukrainian Mafia.”  
  
“Oh, he should be psyched,” pipes up Jake in his usual cheeky, affable self. “That’s a _very_ up-and-coming Mafia.”  
  
“His soldiers use the site to drop off money and pick up weapons. We need two teams to do long-term stakeouts of four days each,” continues Holt. “There is decent vantage from across the street, a three star hotel with a poorly designed surveillance system. Bisko’s soldiers seem to be completely aware of the blind spots and have avoided being caught on camera. Everything we’ve gotten so far contains partials at most—and is definitely insufficient for building a compelling case. Any volunteers?”  
  
“Uh, I don’t have any open cases right now,” Jake mentions with his arms crossed and a half-shrug. “And I think Santiago just wrapped up the Airaldi case, she was bragging all morning to me about how fast she cracked it and how hotly _smart_ she was.”  
  
Amy turns around immediately, peeved and irked by Jake’s teasing, which is exactly the reaction he wants, craves. One look and he already knows that she can’t believe he’s exposing her like this, embarrassing her like this, during a briefing.  
  
“I didn’t _brag_ ,” she asserts, trying to keep her indignation at bay. “I was just updating you on how the case went.”  
  
“But you don’t have any open cases now, do you?” enquires Holt.  
  
“And you’re willing to volunteer your time on this stakeout?” Terry asks as a follow-up.  
  
“Uh, yes. Yes, _of course_ , I will–“  
  
“Then that settles it. Detectives Peralta and Santiago will make up one tea–“  
  
Several people start laughing _(and by several people, one really means Gina and Rosa, most other people who know why they’re laughing mostly smile knowingly but their reactions do not matter because they are not important)_ at them. Charles keeps quiet but his fists tighten in absolute glee, as his eyes widen and his lips part in a large grin, because he knows that Jake and Amy locked alone in a hotel room is a gift from the heavens, and he must do nothing to destroy it.  
  
“What’s so funny?” Terry asks, even though he has an inkling of why they’re losing their minds.  
  
“Jake and Amy? In a hotel room for four days?” Gina chuckles heartily. “Never before has the world seen a bigger disaster.”  
  
“I don’t get it,” interpolates Amy, face scrunching up in thought. “Are you saying that Jake and I will die on this stakeout?”  
  
“More like Amy’ll slit Jake’s throat when she sees how he lives and breathes. It’s gonna be a blood bath.”  
  
Amy rolls her eyes. “Come on, I’m not going to commit _murder_ over Jake’s... habits. I’m not that uptight.”  
  
“Eh, either way, the both of you are a handful and a half.”  
  
“Oh come on, Santiago and I are a _killer_ team—and by that, I mean we kill bad guys, not each other, and by ‘kill’, I mean we send them to jail. Anyway, point is: we make a dope ass duo, we’ve closed more cases together than anyone else in the squad, so statistically–“ his head swivels to the left to make eye contact with Amy who’s watching him just like everyone else–“see, the fact that I used that word shows how much we _vibe–“_  
  
“Uh huh,” Amy utters, nodding patronizingly. “Are you done?”  
  
He turns back around to face the general vicinity. “Almost! Anyway, in conclusion, we’re the best team, and we’re gonna completely _wreck_ this stakeout. In a good way, of course.”  
  
Gina snorts, fingers interlocking astutely as she rests her chin on them. “Whatever Jake, no one cares whether murders get solved or not. Plus, I think it’s not so much your personality differences that will get you fighting but... your sexual tension. You know, the one that’s so thick Rosa probably wouldn’t be able to cut through it even if she used a samurai sword?”  
  
A hush falls over the room, and by room, one really only means Jake and Amy. They get all quiet, because this is kind of true but they don’t want to admit it—everyone else on the other hand? They’re either giggling or smiling really widely.  
  
Or, if they’re Captain Raymond Holt, they’re drowning in disapproval.  
  
“Gina, that’s enough—this is a workplace. Kindly refrain from discussing any theories regarding... _romantic entanglements_ between any of your coworkers.”  
  
“Oh, so it’s okay for Jake and Amy to drag around their _lust_ and flirt two feet away from me every second of every day, but it’s not okay for me to call them out? I see how this works now, Captain.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Come on,” Amy interrupts (consciously trying to change the subject), cheeks pink from Gina’s accusations, especially since they’re being said in front of her superior officers. “My desk is more than two feet away from yours.”  
  
“Are you seriously not going to address the sex bits?” Jake perplexes, his eyebrows furrowed.  
  
“I’m not addressing it, because it’s ludicrous, and a completely baseless accusation. We don’t _flirt.”_  
  
“Yeah! I mean,” he scoffs nervously, “look at us! Does it _look_ like we want to have sex?”  
  
_“Desperately, yes,”_ says Charles, a tad bit more dreamy than appropriate. It kind of disgusts both Jake and Amy.  
  
“Alright, that’s enough,” Terry interjects, seeing Holt do some sort of a face palm, waving his hands as if it’ll cancel the current topic. “So Jake and Amy will take the first shift. Any volunteers for the second one?”  
  
Rosa snorts, turning to Gina, who she regards fondly. “I bet you fifty bucks they won’t last the first two days.”  
  
“Alright, you know what?” Jake interrupts haughtily as he turns around to look at Gina and Rosa. “I bet that Amy and I _can_ last two days, because we’re great friends who totally get along all the time, and we’re gonna have a blast. In fact, I bet an _extra_ fifty dollars that we can make it the full eight days.”  
  
Captain Holt sighs, already looking on the verge of a migraine. “Sergeant, you handle this issue. I’ll be in my office.”  
  
“Okay,” Rosa shrugs. “Easiest hundred bucks I’ll ever make.”  
  
“Woah woah woah,” Terry cuts in as Captain Holt leaves. “Look Peralta, I know you want to prove yourself, but a full eight days on a stakeout with someone is just crazy. No matter how tight you are with a person, it all falls apart when you’re in close quarters for an extended period of time. We _need_ a relief team.”  
  
“No need for that Sarge, Santiago and I will be perfectly fine. Right?” He asks, turning to her for approval.  
  
“I mean... maybe it’s not wise to force a full eight days?”  
  
“What’s wrong, Santiago? Think you can’t do it?” Gina taunts with a smirk, watching as this ignites Amy’s competitive streak, or, to be more accurate, her constant-need-to-prove-herself streak.  
  
“Or, is everyone right and you’re _actually_ incapable of resisting my seductive charms for eight days?” Jake winks, attempting a sexy pose that causes him to look more like a dying seal than anything.  
  
Amy crosses her arms. “You’re badly mistaken. I’m going to be fine. You should worry about yourself, Peralta.”  
  
Terry relents, because he knows there’s no way he can get his ridiculous detectives to back down from this frivolous bet they’ve made. “Fine, Peralta and Santiago can go for the first shift. We’ll check in in a few days to see if you need others to tag in.”  
  
“No need for that Sarge! In eight days, Santiago and I will have the Ukrainian Mafia down. And when it’s all over, she will be crying tears of sadness because of how much she’s going to miss having me around.”  
  
“I doubt it.”  
  
“See? She’s already pumped!”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 0 | 1739 HOURS**  
  
“Hey,” says Rosa, approaching Jake and Amy’s desks as they pack surveillance equipment and discuss plans for their stakeout. “Look, I know we all kind of pressured the two of you back there, but eight days is a lot. If you need two people to tap in... I guess–“ she sighs deeply, already hating this–“Boyle and I... could help. Even though–“  
  
“NO!” Charles protests loudly from across the room, as evidenced by the capitalized letters. “We’re leaving them in there until they fall in love! Wait.” His mind seems to have abruptly jumped into thought. “They’re already in love,” he looks up resolutely again. “We’re leaving them in there until they realize they’re in love!”  
  
Amy groans, already very much done with all this bullshit. She’s weirdly looking forward to the stakeout now, because at least she’ll get to escape all the blatant teasing. “Charles, for the last time, Jake and I are not in love.”  
  
“Yeah, because that would require _both_ of us to have feelings, of which I have none. And sure, Santiago’s got the major major hots for me–“  
  
“I do not have the ‘major major’ hots for you, nor do I have any feelings. Honestly Peralta, it’s like you _want_ me to have a crush on you.”  
  
He only winks at her in response, and it’s something she doesn’t expect, so much so that it throws her into a fluster.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 1 | 1123 HOURS**  
  
The hotel doesn’t seem all too bad by the looks of the lobby. It’s relatively clean, kind of tacky and lacking elegance, but it looks like it could be a livable place, should the hotel rooms match up to the slightly above average standards of the lobby. At the very least, Jake and Amy would definitely survive an eight day stay.  
  
Jake and Amy are lugging heavy suitcases on wheels behind them as they walk up confidently to the front desk. They’re hoping the large suitcases will make sense due to their long stay, because it’s important to keep their investigation secret. They don’t know whether any of the hotel staff are on the Ukrainian Mafia’s payroll, and they can’t let their plans get foiled.  
  
The receptionist is a pleasant looking blonde of a friendly demeanor, and Amy’s just nodding along to everything she’s saying with a smile.  
  
Until she mentions their room’s sleeping arrangements.  
  
“Uh. A double bed?”  
  
“Why?” The receptionist looks up, confused about her surprised reaction. “Oh, are you not a couple? I thought you two were on honey–“  
  
“Uh, yeah! We are on honeymoon! We just uh...” he loops his arm around Amy’s. “My gorgeous wife here just wanted to make sure we got the biggest bed possible. Because, you know, we like to spread out.”  
  
Amy gulps, going along with it (even though he didn’t have to call her gorgeous, like, is it this necessary for him to stop her heart?) because being a couple booking a room together for a budgeted romantic getaway is much less suspicious than two friends who live in New York booking a hotel room in New York for eight days with no sexual motive. “Mhm, yup, that’s the reason.”  
  
“Oh thank god, because that bulky stuff you’re carrying looks like camera or... surveillance-y equipment? I mean, I nearly thought the two of you were stalking someone or something," she giggles, as if the very notion is ridiculous.  
  
Jake and Amy both laugh along very nervously at this, side-eyeing each other desperately to find a good excuse.  
  
“Uh, no! This is, this is, well—what can I say? We love... filming ourselves.”  
  
“Oh,” the receptionist goes red at Jake’s sudden confession. “Say no more—here are your key cards. Have a pleasant stay.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 1 | 1432 HOURS**  
  
They start setting up their cameras and surveillance equipment once they settle in, even unpacking their personal belongings and amenities because they don’t have a lot of complicated surveillance stuff anyway. It’s basically two cameras, a pair of binoculars, and tripod stands. They’re lucky to have more than one camera actually, given the cutbacks on NYPD budget. The success of this stakeout relies largely on timing and Jake and Amy’s observation skills.  
  
So obviously, Jake gets a little antsy after nothing happens at the drop site. He’s been staring through the camera, through the binoculars, even squinting through the windows that are slightly smudged but still mostly clear and not cracked. Amy seems mostly fine with the boring set up (sure, she’s not over the moon about the lack of activity, but she’s not as restless), seems fine with the silence that Jake so desperately wants to fill. It hasn’t always been silent of course, there’s been scattered small talk here and there—but every time it starts getting quiet for too long a part of him panics.  
  
It’s not like how things are at the precinct, which bustles with constant activity, full of people who do things that he can comment on, full of things that he can joke about. It’s even okay to not constantly talk to Amy when they’re at the precinct, because they have their own work to do, own tasks to perform.  
  
Here, it’s just him, Amy, and nothing else. Weirdly, he still kind of likes it, and there’s an annoying voice at the back of his head teasing him for this. He knows he likes her, knows he has a dumb crush on her that’s blown out of proportion from his crazy stupid feelings, but he doesn’t like reminding himself that he’s kind of super obsessed with her.  
  
“Is it just me, or is this the longest we’ve ever gone without anything happening on a stakeout?”  
  
Jake nearly heaves a sigh of relief when Amy speaks. “Yeah,” he says, “well, you know I can’t sense time passing. But it has felt like hell.”  
  
He’s not lying, but he knows the reason why it’s felt like hell has more to do with his lack of success at getting Amy to laugh, smile, pout, or any other cute emotion of hers—than it has to do with the lack of activity at the drop site.  
  
(To be fair to Jake, the last time he made Amy laugh, smile, pout, or any other cute emotion of hers was about fifteen minutes ago, which is really not that bad. But a boy be paranoid, and a boy also be real bad at sensing time pass.)  
  
“Maybe Gina was onto something with having sex to pass the ti–“  
  
Jake’s entire reality gets plunged into a whirlpool of confusion and constant screaming. “Uh, uh—Gina said what?”  
  
“She told me that we could always just solve our problems with sex, like, if we happened to fight, or get annoyed at each other, or if we were bored–“  
  
His throat is dry. Could Amy be suggesting that they—no. She couldn’t be. Could she though?  
  
“Wait. Are you saying that you want to–“  
  
Her eyes widen instantly. “Oh, no! De—definitely not. I don’t, I don’t—I was just joking! About something Gina said.” She gulps, clearly flustered. “Of course I wasn’t actually suggesting that we, that we–“  
  
Jake nods, trying very hard to mask his disappointment. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. I get it. It was a funny thing for Gina to say. Would’ve been weird if you didn’t tell me anyway.”  
  
Amy seems to freeze up in some sort of realization. “Wait. Did _you_ want to have sex?”  
  
Her question comes for Jake’s entire life and for a moment—he dies—then spontaneously gets resurrected and has to actually answer her question, which is a bummer.  
  
He chooses to do this in the coolest, smoothest, way possible (note: Jake Peralta’s self-perception is often unreliable).  
  
“Whaaaaaaaaaaat? Me? Have sex with _you?”_ He laughs so nervously that had a live studio audience been present, they would’ve all fallen silent. “Huh, please, that’s just—that’s just you. Wanting to, to scale Mount Peralta.”  
  
She bites her lip inconspicuously, in a fashion that hides her mild disappointment and slight hurt.  
  
“Mhm, sure,” she continues competitively, because they’re always playing some game, and to not retort in a superior air would be to admit defeat somehow. She just can’t believe that their latest game is basically one of... sex chicken.  
  
Amy shrugs off her suit jacket, and she notices Jake flinch, giving her an opening for an actual good comeback.  
  
“What’s wrong, Peralta? Afraid you’ll see something you want?”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 1 | 1721 HOURS**  
  
“You brought mini basketball?” Amy exasperates as she watches Jake dig up his hoop and ball, joyfully setting it up. It’s his unbridled glee that softens her heart. And to be fair, her heart wasn’t very hard to begin with, because there’s nothing wrong with mini basketball. She just can’t believe that while packing for an eight day stakeout, Jake saw mini basketball as a priority.  
  
But then again, _of course_ he saw it as a priority. He’s Jake Peralta.  
  
She hates how much she loves that about him. She hates how much her heart aches, pines for him. She hates how she missed out on someone so wonderful because she had been afraid, afraid of how incredibly different he was from all the people she used to date. It took far too long for her to realize: the reason Jake was so different from all her past flames was because he was someone special. Someone... she just _knows_ is worth holding on to.  
  
Too late now. He’s not hers, and he probably never will be. All because she passed on the chance of a lifetime. All because she was too afraid to accept how he made her feel. He could’ve been hers—she thinks back to that night, the night before Jake left for his undercover mission, and wishes she had thrown caution to the wind and kissed Jake then and there—but she didn’t, and when he came back, and she got another chance to be with him, what did she do? Yeah, she turned him down again.  
  
When she finally got the courage to admit to herself that she felt nothing for Teddy and wanted to be with Jake, he got a _girlfriend_. And though Jake and Sophia broke up a little while back, he’s definitely gotten over whatever feelings he used to have for Amy. And it sucks, but of course, Amy truly has no one to blame but herself.  
  
“Scoff all you want now, but you’ll thank me later.”  
  
“I think you’re right–“ she smirks at the surprised look Jake gets at her words, naively thinking that she’s given in already–“it’s going to be riveting, watching you fail at mini basketball.”  
  
He drops the basketball hoop in shock which falls with a clunk, giving her a look of utter betrayal. He actually seems genuinely hurt as he puts the hoop back up, but in the funniest way possible that cracks Amy up.  
  
“Excuse me?” He puts his hands on his hips. “I am amazing at mini basketball. Heck, probably even better than I am at big—I mean, _regular basketball_ , and I’ll prove it.”  
  
He starts dribbling the ball in an effort to mimic professional basketball players, and it’s incredibly comical because the small size of the ball makes it impossible to control, plus the carpeting of the hotel room floor severely limits the extent to which the ball actually bounces. In essence, he looks incredibly foolish, and Amy can’t stop laughing at him.  
  
“I stand corrected,” she says with a playful air of sarcasm. “Your skills are clearly, second to none.”  
  
He tosses the ball at her in a petty move, which she catches, and then proceeds to toss at the hoop, attempting to score.  
  
The ball hits the side of the ring, bouncing off, making Amy feel oddly disappointed somehow. She realizes Jake might not be that crazy for being as obsessed with the sport as he is, but she’s mostly upset about missing the shot because she wanted something to rub into Jake’s face with.  
  
“Oops, too bad you didn’t get that in,” he says, clearly not sympathetic, as he retrieves the ball. “You gotta have mad skillz for this, like me,” he grins, making her roll her eyes. “You can’t expect to be magically good at it like you are with everything else.”  
  
Now that... that makes Amy do a bit of a double take. She doesn’t know what’s with this man, this man who trash talks her in the most distracting and childish of ways, yet can still inadvertently compliment her at the same time. It makes her cheeks heat up in an annoying way, the kind where she knows she’s blushing, knows that anyone could point out if they saw her, if she didn’t hide her face. The effect he has on her is beyond belief, and knowing about this effect embarrasses her beyond repair.  
  
“Anyway, time to dunk!”  
  
Those words mildly calm the edge Amy was on, and she can only watch on exasperatedly as Jake runs towards the hoop. She wants to point out how dunking in mini basketball, where the hoop is far closer to the ground as compared to that of a real basketball hoop, poses no challenge at all, and Jake really shouldn’t try to make it sound like it’s an impressive thing to do.  
  
But then Jake misses his shot and slams the ball down onto the rim of the hoop instead, causing the plastic material to snap and for Jake to trip and fall to the ground.  
  
“Noooooooooo! My hoop!”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 1 | 1953 HOURS**  
  
After Jake bemoans the sad, tragic death of his mini basketball hoop, they start having dinner (food that they’ve packed from home). Amy tucks into a good old chicken salad and soup while Jake eats a wide variety of pizza themed foods. All their food is heated up in the microwave oven they’ve brought along.  
  
Of course, they didn’t pack enough food to last the full eight days. They’ll either be making arrangements to buy takeout from nearby eateries or getting members of the squad to sneak them some food. But at the moment, they’ve got their salad and pizzaritos and life is good.  
  
Amy takes a shower after dinner because she’s due to sleep at eight o’clock. They’ve arranged the schedule as such: from 12-8 they’re both watching, then from 8-4 she sleeps and Jake watches, and then from 4-12 Jake sleeps and she watches.  
  
Jake’s head whips around when Amy exits the shower, sporting a tank top and yoga pants, hair freshly washed and blow-dried. It was a reflex of his to turn around, not because he wanted to see a post-shower Amy, but because—because... uh. Whatever, he turned around. People turn around to look at other people! It’s a normal thing to do!  
  
What’s probably not so normal is the way he gulps when he sees her. Which again, is not his fault. Amy Santiago is a sight to behold. And seeing more exposed skin from her than he’s used to is driving Jake insane. Because she’s incredibly hot, and yeah, Jake is very much attracted to her. He has been for a long time! And it’s okay to find attractive people attractive!  
  
What’s probably less okay is how completely enamored he is by her. His heart gets this sharp pang of want and longing when he looks at her sometimes, his mind starts yelling, breaking down when he talks to her sometimes. He’s had feelings for her, probably for the longest time, and knowing he has these feelings has just made it all worse. Being single, with her equally single right now, it’s strangely the worst sensation in the world; technically, he can do something about his feelings, he can try to court her, seduce her, win her affections _(again, he accidentally got her to like him once, although he’s pretty sure that’s over now),_ but he’s not doing that. Not properly, anyway. Because he’s too stupid to do anything about his stupidly huge crush on Amy Santiago.  
  
He just hopes to god that he doesn’t fall in love with her.  
  
When he catches a whiff of her hair, however, he’s forced to eat his words a little.  
  
“You smell good,” he tells her right before she walks away from him. The words fall from his lips before he can even begin to consider their ramifications, before he can even decide that saying them is a bad idea. Maybe not the worst idea he’s ever had (because ya boi has had some bad ideas), but it’s definitely up there.  
  
She turns around. “I smell good?”  
  
“Yeah.” He’s so fucked. He’s the very definition of fucked. “Uh, was that weird to say?”  
  
It’s weird to say. It’s definitely weird to say.  
  
“Yeah, because it kind of sounds like you’re feeling seduced by me,” she crosses her arms teasingly, like she’s winning this secret game of theirs. “What else about me is good, Peralta?”  
  
Everything, he wants to tell her. He wants to list everything he loves about her, up to and including how much he wants her to sit on his face, how badly he wants to take off that stupid tank top, shrug off those tight yoga pants that are hugging everything he wants to touch, put his hands on. But that would be a mistake, and he’s already made enough of those. One of them being how he just told her she smelled good. Oh god. He’s creepy. He’s a creepy guy now, isn’t he?  
  
“I’m not being seduced by you, Santiago,” he insists with some sort of scoff. “It’s 2015, can’t a guy platonically tell a girl that she smells good? What caveman age are you living in?”  
  
She snorts, turning back and lifting up the covers. “I’m going to sleep now. Have fun resisting the urge to kiss me.”  
  
She throws in a wink as she says that (in her teasing voice which is regretfully sexy in the worst way), and it’s annoying because she’s clearly making fun of him; it hurts because he really is resisting the urge to kiss her, all the time, wants nothing more than to lace their lips together and taste her because oh, how good she would feel. He craves something he’s never had, something that he feels like he’ll never get to experience.  
  
But alas, he’s left with the task of coming up with a good comeback to her taunt.  
  
“I don’t wanna kiss you, you wanna kiss you! I mean, _me!_ Damn it!”  
  
He fails. It’s a real tearjerker. A modern day tragedy.  
  
She only chortles in response, before tucking herself in, moaning at the way her back sinks into the mattress. She’s not exhausted, per se, but this comfort is what she deserves.  
  
“Santiago, moaning like that won’t make me want to sleep with you any more than you think it will, so you might as well give up now.”  
  
He’s lying, again. The moaning is really not helping him focus; he can’t see past the window, all he’s thinking about is the woman behind him, and how good she sounds, and how he’d love to hear her moan and see her writhe underneath him, and how desperately she would beg for more while he’s thrusting into her, over and over again. It would be so good, but alas, it’s not his body that’s giving her pleasure right now but a lifeless bed.  
  
“I wasn’t _moaning,”_ she disputes, even though she was, she was totally moaning. “This bed just... feels incredible.”  
  
“I can’t wait to find out then.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 2 | 0400 HOURS**  
  
Amy’s alarm beeps at four o’clock sharp, the moderately annoying sound now jarring to all who hear it as it permeates the air, waking Amy up with a jolt.  
  
“Oh, finally,” Jake half slurs as he gets up from his chair, staggering over to bed and collapsing over it. His fatigue is perfectly understandable, obviously, since he’s been up for over sixteen hours. And there’s something about sitting on a chair in a very dim room that allows his mind to succumb to exhaustion much more readily than if he were to, for example, interrogate a perp at the precinct all night long.  
  
The only problem here... is that Jake didn’t just collapse on the bed. There’s something between him and the bed, or to be more accurate, _someone._  
  
So yes, Jake’s collapsed on top of Amy and she can’t get up. She’s also pretty sure he doesn’t realize how his head is pretty much resting on her chest, making it a little hard to breathe.  
  
Another thing that’s making it hard for Amy to breathe is the fact that Jake’s lying on top of her. It’s the fact that she isn’t exactly in that much of a hurry to get him off, it’s the fact that she’s actually weirdly enjoying the feeling of his body on top of hers.  
  
It makes her think of other activities they could be doing, where Jake could be on top of her too, covering her body with his own, except more conscious and–  
  
_God, she needs to stop thinking of the most perverse things at four in the morning._  
  
That being said, scandalous imagery still floods her mind, some familiar fantasies that she’s had, and it feels very much more sinful to think about those things with Jake’s warm, hard body against hers, his pelvis no more than two inches away from her own.  
  
“Jake?” she calls out quietly, because she has a job to do now, and she can’t do it if he’s trapping her in bed with him. “You’re on top of me.”  
  
He lets out some sort of sound that’s drowsy and strangely arousing to hear all the same. His lips don’t move, his eyes remain shut, and Amy weirdly wants to kiss him.  
  
It would be so easy to kiss him too. But it would be stupid of her to kiss him, and bad, very bad. So she bites hard on her lip as if to punish her desire and taps Jake on the shoulder.  
  
“Jake? You need to wake up for a while.”  
  
When he doesn’t respond after a few more attempts, she finally decides to give up, because enough is enough. She uses her strength to roll the both of them over so that she’s on top instead (and can get off of Jake), but this pulls him tighter and closer against her.  
  
It only lasts a second though, which is a good thing.  
  
She gently shakes Jake again.  
  
“Jake? Don’t you want to take a shower first? Change into something more cozy so that you can sleep better?”  
  
He shakes his head, curling up and getting comfortable. Amy swoons again, because it’s four in the morning but he looks so precious. She wants desperately to crawl into bed with him, in more ways than one.  
  
But her self control is still intact, and she still has a job to do. So a few reluctant paces to her chair later has her starting her stakeout shift, as Jake drifts off to sleep.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 2 | 1200 HOURS**  
  
Jake stirs to the insistent vibrating of his phone next to him, groaning at the stupid command to get up and throws it away from him. Thankfully, the phone doesn’t smash against the wall but drops on the carpeted floor.  
  
It also gets Amy’s attention, who realizes he’s trying to avoid getting up, which is ultimately worse than any alarm clock. Because he can’t throw Amy against the wall, and he doesn’t _want_ to throw Amy against the wall (since that would hurt her). Sure, he wouldn’t mind _slamming_ Amy against a wall (in a completely harmless fashion) and making out with her, and pulling her clothes off her body, and making sweet love to her–  
  
Okay, he needs to stop. These are not thoughts that are okay to have at noon, seconds after he’s gained some semblance of consciousness.  
  
“Jake, are you trying to escape from working?”  
  
She pulls the covers away from him, grabbing his arm and dragging him up into a sitting position so as to force him awake.  
  
It sadly backfires, because Jake makes a grab at her and successfully brings her down to the bed with him, rolling over and pinning her body to the mattress, making it harder for her to escape.  
  
“Jake!”  
  
“Shhh... You woke up at four, you gotta be tired too.”  
  
She huffs, but it’s mostly to mask how much she’s enjoying this, even though she shouldn’t be enjoying this. Jake’s just being weird from being half awake, yet feeling his arms around her, his hands against her body... she can’t help but want more. She wants to be touched by him, she wants to pull his hands up and down to touch her in places that aren’t her waist.  
  
But alas, she’s not crazy. Yet.  
  
“Jake, if you have the energy to try and tempt me into sleeping with you, then you have the energy to get up.”  
  
He visibly reacts to this, and Amy nearly groans when the implications of the words hit her. “I’m tempting you to sleep with me, huh?”  
  
“I didn’t mean it like that, just—get out of bed, Jake. Wake up for real.”  
  
She sits up because his grip on her was loose and playful (never trying to force her to stay in bed with him in the first place), but his hand gently circles around her wrist.  
  
“If you want the princess to wake up, he needs a kiss.”  
  
She rolls her eyes, because she can’t believe he just referred to himself as a princess, and she can’t believe how much she wants to kiss him. It’s a real conundrum, but she still needs to play it cool.  
  
“Are you trying to say that you want to kiss me?”  
  
His eyes fly wide open, and Amy laughs because _gotcha_. She knew Jake didn’t mean what he said, she knew he didn’t _actually_ want to kiss her, which is why she said what she did.  
  
“Huh, yeah right,” he sits up, moving off the bed. “I don’t, I don’t wanna do that, _for sure.”_  
  
“Good for you,” she says, swallowing a little more painfully than she needs to. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get dressed now.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 2 | 1219 HOURS**  
  
“Well now I feel _very_ underdressed for this party,” he says, smiling as Amy walks back into the room. She had been wearing a pantsuit yesterday, but they were at the precinct before traveling to the hotel. He assumed she’d dress down today and he’d get to see Amy dressed casually (sure she had been wearing a tank top and yoga pants for over eight hours earlier on but that made it hard for him to breathe and it was sleepwear so it doesn’t count), but apparently not. “What’s with the pantsuit?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know. I just packed a couple of these because well... technically, we’re working. And wearing this helps me get in the zone.” She shrugs. “Also, I’m feeling a little cold, so the layers are helping.”  
  
“I could turn up the thermostat for you,” Jake offers, getting up to do just that. “But to be honest, I don’t think anyone would find it cold in here.”  
  
“I get cold easily.”  
  
“Right, because all the heat in your body goes to your butt.” The look on his face after he says this paints a picture of complete regret. “Sorry, that was weird. I just meant that—you know that time I sat on your chair and it was really warm? Haha, also is it me or is it starting to get hot in here?”  
  
“Jake, it’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it. I have a... warm butt, but at night I need a million blankets to stay warm.”  
  
Jake chuckles, but then begins unzipping his jacket. “For real though, it’s starting to get warm in here. How are you not breaking a sweat in that pantsuit?”  
  
“Are you just... uncomfortable? Seeing me in a pantsuit right now? If it really bothers you, I can put on something–“  
  
“What? No! I mean, I see you in a pantsuit every day. If anything, I’ve warmed up to them. I just thought, um, well, maybe you’d be taking this chance to... to seduce me. Since you used to worship the ground I walked.”  
  
His attempt to, to joke? Well, whatever it is he was trying to do, it only comes out very awkward. He has no idea what he’s doing and he wants to disappear, vanish into thin air so he doesn’t have to be himself.  
  
“Worship the ground you walked on?”  
  
“Because of your huge crush on me,” he coughs, words quickly slurring together with a cheeky grin on his face. “Heh, see, I told you I’d bring it up constantly!”  
  
Amy scoffs, not even bothering to get mad because he’s obviously just messing with her. “I used to have a teensy, tiny crush on you. That did not mean I _worshiped_ the ground you walked on.”  
  
“Yeah, sure.”  
  
“Why? Did _you_ worship the ground I walked on when you liked me, quote unquote, ‘romantic stylez’?” She points out, reminding him that he used to like her too, and that two can play at this childish ‘haha you used to like-like me’ game.  
  
“Yeah,” he admits, casually and simplistically in a way that shocks Amy.  
  
“Wait... really?”  
  
“I mean, I was crazy about you.” Correction. He is _still_ crazy about her. “Guess that sorta counts as worshipping the ground you walked on. Maybe not. Eh,” he shrugs, pretending to be chill even though his inner temperament does not match up in the slightest. “Whatever. It’s not like I still like you like that.”  
  
He’s lying. You know, like a liar.  
  
“Yeah,” Amy says, sounding distant and out of touch. “Same here.”  
  
“Like, sure you liked me a little while you were with Teddy, but it’s not like you still like me now, and I sure as heck stopped liking you, y’know, since I was with Sophia and all that.” He swallows with some difficulty at this, the very mention of his recent ex a painful reminder of how it all came to pass, so wrong and so fast. “And well, that’s over now, and she did dump me—but that wasn’t because of you. That was, that was because she didn’t love me.”  
  
Amy’s face falls and she makes eye contact with Jake now, finally, but strangely now he doesn’t want her attention. He wants to bury himself into the ground, through the ceiling of the floor below them, and keep burying himself until he’s reached the ground floor so he can run out of the building.  
  
“Jake... I didn’t know. That, that’s horrible, I’m so sorry to hear–“  
  
“No,” he shakes it off, shakes her concern off, because he’s feeling too raw. “I mean, it’s not that deep. I’m a cop, she’s a lawyer. Work was giving her a hard time about being with me so she broke it off. But then I couldn’t let it go because I’m an idiot so I chased her and... said a bunch of dumb stuff. Including stuff like, me loving her I guess.”  
  
Amy bites her lip. She genuinely hates seeing him like this, and her heart strangely aches because she wants to make him better, wants to make him feel better. “Jake, I’m really sorry she did all that to you. I mean, for what it’s worth, she doesn’t deserve your love.”  
  
“I know, I guess. I mean, when I think about it, I didn’t actually love her. I just, I just really didn’t want her to go. I didn’t want her to leave because things were going so well and I thought I could fix everything but I just... made everything worse. And she walked. Because everyone leaves me in the end.”  
  
This time, her words don’t fall from her lips as gently.  
  
“Jake, stop. Not everyone is going to leave you. You have friends, family—all of whom love you a lot. Your mom, the squad. I mean, Charles throws a _fit_ every time he’s forced to part with you for more than a few hours. We all love you, Jake.”  
  
He looks eerily vulnerable when he tilts his head up at her. “Even you?”  
  
“Even me. I love you too.”  
  
He beams. It’s still a smile that’s hurting from past scars, a face that’s smarting from all the lashes his heart has taken, but it is genuine and grateful, through and through, for Amy’s comfort.  
  
“Thanks, Santiago.”  
  
“You’re welcome. None of us are going to leave you. Least of all me. I mean, I’m stuck here with you for eight days, right?”  
  
He chuckles. “Lucky me.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 2 | 1829 HOURS**  
  
“I don’t know,” Amy says hesitantly. “I just, I just—it feels wrong.”  
  
“Amy, I’m not asking you to commit a crime. I just want you to steal for me!”  
  
She gives him a look.  
  
“Oh come on, you know it’s not _actually_ stealing. They’d be putting these soap and shampoo bottles in our bathroom anyway if we didn’t have our ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on.”  
  
“Why can’t you just use my soap? Or, just use the soap bars. It’s good enough, you don’t even have that much hair.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”  
  
“You know what I mean,” she sighs.  
  
“My hair deserves the best, Santiago. Free stuff is the best, and that’s why I need to use it for my hair. If you swipe me some shampoo after getting our Chinese food, I’ll give you a reward,” he winks.  
  
Amy’s throat goes dry. She can’t believe this is actually working on her. Thoughts of how Jake could possibly reward her, the things she could possibly get Jake to do in exchange for her thievery... it fascinates and entrances her.  
  
But of course, she doesn’t let him know any of this.  
  
“What reward?” She asks, but with as little interest as possible, acting as if she’s not actually interested in the reward itself, but rather whatever weird thing he’s about to say.  
  
“You get... half of my last pizza pocket?”  
  
She rolls her eyes, despite the tiny heart clench that happens in reaction to Jake’s very hopeful beam. She throws in a sigh that’s full of faked disdain as she walks out the door.  
  
“Can’t believe that worked,” Jake says to himself. “Bet she secretly loves pizza pockets.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 2 | 2023 HOURS**  
  
“God, that felt so good,” Jake remarks in a relaxed state as he steps out of the shower. “I’m definitely ready to spy on the Ukrainian Mafia for eight hours straight all by myself now.”  
  
She can hear some slight resentment of that very activity in his tone, and she understands where he’s coming from.  
  
“If you want, I can stay up an hour or two more to keep watch with you,” she offers kindly. “I’m not even tired yet–“ she turns around, and that is when she loses her mind because all Jake Peralta has on is a single white towel wrapped around his waist–“whu—what are you, why aren’t you dressed?”  
  
“Forgot to bring clothes into the bathroom,” he replies casually, until he looks up and gets this grin on his face. “Oh, is this doing something for you?” He asks with the brightest look on his face, pointing to his towel. It’s annoying because on one hand he’s going about all this in the most obnoxious and childish of ways, but on the other hand this immature, full of himself man is unfortunately right.  
  
“No,” she denies immediately, turning around to look away from him, because it’s starting to get ridiculous, the extent to which she’s pining for him, him and that stupid body she just happens to want on top of hers. Or underneath hers. Or beside hers in a position–  
  
Okay, she needs to stop. And chill. She needs to get very chill very fast and stop all this nonsense. Being this attracted to Jake? It’s starting to get embarrassing.  
  
“No?”  
  
“I just, I just thought you’d be dressed. Because you should be dressed. I wouldn’t have turned around if I didn’t think you’d be dressed.”  
  
“Oh, come on Santiago...” he trails, footsteps slowly approaching her, causing heat to rise through Amy’s body, causing her stomach to bottom out in fear and anticipation of what he might do. If he does anything between kissing her neck and whispering something in her ear, god forbid should he _touch_ her—that would be the end of Amy. She’s this close to ripping that towel off and seeing the cock she’s been wondering about for months.  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with admitting you liked it, or if that did something for you,” he pauses in a way that makes it seem like he winked, because of course he’d wink. He’s cocky and annoying and Amy wants to bed him more than anything.  
  
“I don’t–“  
  
“For the record,” he interjects, because of course he’s not done. “I think you’d looking amazing with only a towel around your waist.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 2 | 2242 HOURS**  
  
Amy tosses and turns in bed, trying her best to get herself falling asleep to no avail. Her mind refuses to doze off, because some deep dark part of her brain is begging her to take care of some needs. Needs, that could have very well been ignored if not for the stupid evil man who riled her up just a few short hours before.  
  
She kept her word, of course, staying up for about two hours past her planned bedtime in order to keep Jake company. But she almost wishes she hadn’t, because those two hours were a time sent from hell.  
  
Every small thing Jake did made her skin crawl. He nonchalantly told her she’d look great half naked with a towel around her waist. Hearing that nearly made her ears ring. He then laughed it off, saying he loved seeing her reactions to stuff like that, implying that he only said what he did to rile her up. Seeing the way his lips moved as he chortled made her want to push his stupid head in between her thighs to shut him up. Then he put on a shirt and even _that_ was weirdly attractive to bear witness to, somehow.  
  
So yeah, Amy’s been suffering, and the past few hours have not been her proudest moments.  
  
“Having trouble?” Jake chuckles short and light, having heard the intense tossing and turning.  
  
Amy nearly groans, because hearing his voice go low and quiet for the night isn’t helping her situation.  
  
“I’m fine,” she claims, swallowing what feels like a very tense lump in her throat. She swallows once or twice more, actually, because the strain she’s experiencing is making it difficult to breathe.  
  
“Need some company?” he offers futilely, because they’re not supposed to sleep at the same time, at least one of them is always supposed to keep watch. But still, the extending of this invitation sparks images in Amy’s mind that make it even harder to sleep.  
  
“Definitely not.”  
  
“Anything on your mind?”  
  
She takes a deep breath. “No.” That is a lie. For the past ten minutes, she’s been agonizing over how badly she needs him inside her.  
  
“I could sing you a lullaby.”  
  
“You could also stop talking to me, because that’s making it very hard to sleep.”  
  
“Copy that, I’m a huge distraction.”  
  
She sighs, and doesn’t say anything about how true his words are afterwards.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 3 | 0346 HOURS**  
  
She stirs to the sounds of pants, grunting, and very strained very strange noises when she regains consciousness.  
  
She rolls over and squints at the clock, realizing it’s far too early in the morning. But it’s also almost time for her to wake up and for Jake to go back to bed.  
  
“What are... what are you doing?” she yawns, sitting up in bed.  
  
“Celebration pull ups because I just captured a butt ton of pictures that are gonna help us take down the Ukrainian Mafia!” he jumps off the bar he had been trying and failing to do pull ups on, and whoops in happiness.  
  
“Jake, that’s great,” she mumbles tiredly, trying her best to sound excited, because she is very excited that this stakeout is turning out a success. But then again, it is four in the morning.  
  
Which means it’s time for her to start keeping watch and time for Jake to go to bed.  
  
Reluctantly, but without so much as a pause, Amy staggers out of bed and steps into the bathroom to freshen up for the day ahead. She tries to motivate herself, telling herself that if Jake had such success, she’s going to do well too, and she’ll have plenty to do instead of sitting in a chair and watching the morning pass her by.  
  
As she brushes her teeth after washing her face, she hears Jake attempt to do pull ups again. Now, she knows that Jake can’t do pull ups. There should be no reason for her to be attracted to him while he’s definitely failing at pull ups.  
  
But... the sounds he’s making. The grunts. The groans. She hates herself for fixating on them like this, because she should definitely not be attracted to those sounds. Yet, she can’t stop thinking about him making those sounds in a different context.  
  
She spits out her toothpaste, and it’s almost a symbolic action, like she’s trying to expel her sinful thoughts about her fellow detective and trusted friend.  
  
Namely, thoughts about how she’d like to strap him to her bed and ride him till sundown.  
  
God, she hates herself so much.  
  
“Could you stop doing that?” she snaps curtly as she walks out of the bathroom, refusing to acknowledge the slight rush she gets when he obeys her instantly.  
  
“Sure,” he says agreeably, as if she’s saving him from the torture of having to do more pull ups.  
  
And then he starts to do push ups instead. Which Amy is unsure over whether it’s better or worse than pull ups. The better thing is, he’s much more quiet. The worse thing? He’s weirdly, much much better at push ups than he is at pull ups.  
  
And it fucks Amy up so badly. You see, she’s cultivated this image of Jake (it’s an image she’s attracted to, but it’s an image nonetheless), and it’s now getting ruined, torn to pieces a little bit, by what she’s looking at right now. Sure, she knows to some extent that Jake isn’t what you’d call incapable of push ups, she’s laughed and witnessed and heard about the time Jake had to do a thousand push ups for not trusting Rosa, she knows that doing push ups is a common punishment at the Academy having went through the training herself—but there’s something so wildly thrilling about seeing him go about it so fast and determined. He’s clearly on some kind of adrenaline high after the breakthrough in their stakeout, and Amy’s watching him, suffering because of it.  
  
(It’s not that she’s never seen people do push ups in her life. She’s largely unaffected by the sight of it, actually. It’s the fact that it’s Jake, it’s the fact that every little thing he does can set her off this way and she hates it so much, hates that he has this effect on her.)  
  
“Jake? It’s time for you to go to bed, it’s my turn to keep watch now,” she reminds, voice growing meek and quiet as she watches his arms, which are, which are something else.  
  
He stops, thank god, rolling over on the floor and panting slightly.  
  
“No, it’s fine! Can’t sleep now, too pumped. You can go back and sleep a bit more if you want, since you slept later than usual last night.”  
  
He starts doing stretches after he says this, and Amy is no longer willing to partake in this very confusing torture. She retires to the bed, wanting to escape being more attracted to him as much as she can.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 3 | 1406 HOURS**  
  
“I fixed your basketball hoop!”  
  
“Wait, what?” Jake steps out from the bathroom, still just a little bit drowsy from having very recently woken up. Amy let him sleep in because he stayed up later than he had to. “Oh my god–“ his lips part in a wide grin as he sees Amy hold up his mini-basketball hoop looking good as new–“you fixed my basketball hoop!”  
  
She giggles at his reaction. “Yes Jake, that’s literally what I just said.”  
  
He prances over with a spring in his step, inspecting his basketball hoop in awe. “It... it’s perfect.” He turns to Amy and gives her a kiss on the cheek.  
  
Amy goes red. The spot where he kisses her goes numb, and she’s not sure if she can even hear her own head think. “What... what was that for?”  
  
“Sorry, that came out of no where,” he apologizes. “I won’t do–“  
  
“No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry. I actually liked it.” She says readily without a pause, because no way in hell will she let herself miss out on any sort of kiss Jake wants to offer her. “It made me feel... good. Special.”  
  
Her train of thought leaves the station and starts exploring where else she wants Jake to kiss her. Hands, lips, fingers, thigh. Those are just a few examples. Really, the one place Amy truly needs Jake is in between her legs, but she’s not going to tell him that because he might run out of the room screaming.  
  
In fact, Amy shouldn’t even be thinking about Jake in such a sexual manner. She promised herself that she would keep her wits about her. She promised not to be such a mess. In fact, that’s why she decided to fix Jake’s broken mini-basketball hoop. She wanted something to distract herself from her highly impure thoughts.  
  
The precious, gentle, strangely loving smile he has on his face is just a bonus.  
  
“Well, I just thought about how grateful I was, and like you know, my head went ‘oh, I could kiss you’ grateful. So I kissed you.”  
  
Amy purses her lip. “You thought all that, yet all I got was a cheek kiss?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“I mean, I fixed your basketball hoop, put in my precious time and effort. Maybe even pricked my finger a few times. Don’t you think I deserve more?”  
  
Jake crosses his arms. “Don’t try to extort more kisses from me, Santiago. I know, I know, my lips are super addictive, but–“  
  
“Who said I was looking for a kiss?”  
  
She looks so offended, Jake can’t help but break into a fit of chuckles.  
  
He pulls her in, and kisses her on the forehead.  
  
“Are we good?”  
  
“Yeah, we’re good.” She smiles, feeling fuzzy and warm, enjoying how Jake’s still holding her. “I think now would be a good time to tell you that fixing your basketball hoop was really easy and took almost no time.”  
  
Jake gasps dramatically, even though he doesn’t actually sound very surprised. “Well, now I feel cheated!”  
  
He gives her another forehead kiss.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 3 | 1902 HOURS**  
  
“Thanks for coming over,” says Amy as she opens the door, genuinely grateful to see people other than Jake because she can finally distract herself from her unhinged desire. That might sound dramatic, but the thoughts she’s had about him for the past hour alone could earn her a VIP seat in hell.  
  
What’s worse is how her thoughts have been completely unwarranted. Uncalled for. Because seriously, they stem from Jake giving her one (1) cheek kiss and two (2) forehead kisses (plus the looks he gave her after those kisses, vulnerable, longing, they were powerful, and now etched into her mind).  
  
But it’s not like he slammed her against the wall and started making out with her, desperately undoing her trousers because he just couldn’t resist—god, you see what she means? This is the kind of crap that she needs to stop thinking about right now. So yeah, maybe Gina and Rosa’s presence won’t stop the filthy grease-slick gears of Amy’s dirty mind from surfacing such images, such thoughts.  
  
“And thank you for my fifty dollars,” Jake interjects haughtily as he stretches his hand towards Rosa, who rolls her eyes as she grabs a fifty from inside her leather jacket and slaps it into his palm pettily.  
  
“I’m coming back for that when you cave in a few days,” Rosa points at her money determinedly, referring to the second half of their bet. Sure, Jake and Amy have survived two days of their stakeout, a relatively easy feat. Rosa only bet on that for comedic effect—she knew Jake and Amy could stand to be around each other for about two days—especially out of spite, or to win a bet.  
  
“Oh no,” says Jake in a showy manner. “You’ll be coming back to give me another fifty.” He grins, rubbing the money in between his fingers. “I think I’m going to be paid more by Rosa than I am for being on this stakeout.”  
  
Amy ignores Jake in favor of opening the large paper bag (which presumably contains food) with exaggerated, loud motions, to prevent a potential situation where Rosa throttles him.  
  
“Thank you for–“ she reaches into the bag and pulls out their food–“uh... sausages.” She reaches in again. “And bananas.” She touches something cold this time. “And... vanilla ice cream.”  
  
Jake scoffs at a giggling Gina and a biting-her-lip-to-keep-from-laughing Rosa. “Real mature, guys. Why didn’t you bring us actual dinner?”  
  
“What do you mean? This is actual dinner.”  
  
“We got you protein, fruit, and dessert. Plus other fun stuff.”  
  
Amy grabs the seemingly empty bag, tipping it over the table, and out comes pouring way too many condoms. This cracks both Gina and Rosa up again.  
  
A deep sigh rolls out from Amy’s lips. “Why’d you even go to the trouble to pack these?”  
  
Gina crosses her arms. “A thank you might be nice.”  
  
“We won’t even need these for dinner!”  
  
“Don’t be too sure about that.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 3 | 1932 HOURS**  
  
“You’re actually eating that stuff?” Jake lightly scoffs as he walks out of the shower, fully dressed this time, in a t-shirt and shorts, which is casual but not sexual, unlike what Amy has on.  
  
Okay, what she has on isn’t exactly sexual either—she’s got on shorts that should be illegal because her thighs look ever so inviting and the neckline of her singlet has such a tantalizingly deep concave—it’s only sexual to Jake because the thoughts he’s having about her look (her hair is up in a messy bun and she looks so cute and homey that his heart might just stop) are the farthest from pure as thoughts can get.  
  
“Why not?” Amy answers after a delay, caused by her carefully chewing and swallowing her banana. “I mean, unless we go out and get more food ourselves, it’s either eat this or starve, right?”  
  
He nods, because she’s absolutely right as she always is, and he’s fucking starving, so he grabs a sausage and starts de-dicking it.  
  
“I don’t even know why they thought this would be funny. I mean, it is kinda funny, but it’s not like seeing you eat a banana will make me want to have sex with you.” He’s actually telling the truth, for once in his lying life. He already wants to have sex with her a lot, so nothing about dick-shaped foods will change that. “I’m only disappointed because they didn’t get any food related to your lady parts for me to seduce you with.”  
  
Amy snorts at this. “Before she left, didn’t Gina say that you could just mash up the banana and eat it between your fingers?”  
  
Jake chokes on his sausage, a line and scene that seem to belong in far more explicit content than him sitting down and having a rather strange dinner with Amy Santiago. “Man, this is the weirdest dinner I’ve ever had. Not counting every single time I went out to dinner with Charles and let him choose the restaurant though.”  
  
“Well, this dinner doesn’t have to be weird. We could have fun instead.”  
  
“What are you thinking?”  
  
Her face lights up in a way that gets Jake’s heart aching again in that familiar way it gets much too often around her.  
  
“We could see who can come up with the most ridiculous sexy-eating pose. Like what they’d do in bad porn.”  
  
“Or _really good porn_ , depending on what you’re after,” he points out with a grin, not even bothering to question Amy’s reference to porn, because he probably knows that girls watch porn, and if he doesn’t know this it will be pointed out to him in the future, maybe in about a year or so. Perhaps next season.  
  
She chuckles, then looks at him. “So what do you think? We could take pictures and ask someone to judge and see whose is better.”  
  
“Uh, sure, of course. Sounds great,” he agrees, because Amy looks psyched by the idea, because it is a splendid idea, and he’d be more hyped for it if he weren’t smart enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing Amy’s poses.  
  
Sure, her eating dong-shaped foods is one thing, but having to watch Amy deliberately try to look sexy and seductive, even if it is for comedic and entertainment purposes?  
  
Jake just might die.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 3 | 1939 HOURS**  
  
Jake dies.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 3 | 1940 HOURS**  
  
Okay, so Jake didn’t exactly die. He’s still (barely) breathing, if that counts as anything. But he’s in hell. He’s in actual hell.  
  
Amy Santiago’s tongue is out of her mouth and sliding up the shaft, no wait, _the banana_ , in the hottest way possible. The movement of her tongue is probably being slowed down by his brain to further torture him, and he nearly winces when she throws in a wink or two as he shakily snaps pictures for their fun and good-natured competition that he is going to lose not because of a lack of skill but because of a lack of being alive.  
  
When she finally stops, Jake can’t feel his legs.  
  
“How was that? Did you get anything good?” She takes the phone from him. “Did you catch my bad wink?”  
  
Bad? Wink? Bad wink? What about that wink wasn’t annoyingly hot? Did blood in his veins rush south for a ‘bad wink’? What in the hell does Amy think a good wink is then? And would he survive it?  
  
Jake sighs inwardly and gives her a thumbs up. Everyone was right about him not being able to handle an eight day stakeout alone with Amy. It was so much easier to ignore and keep his feelings for Amy at bay back at work, because at least he got to go back home at the end of the day and leave it all behind, at least other people were there so he could distract himself by interacting with them instead of her. But now that he’s with her every second of every day, it’s so hard not to think about how quickly he could have Amy naked, moaning, and writhing under him on that stupidly comfortable bed, that perfect mattress he wants to fuck her into.  
  
His filthy, disgraceful thoughts are interrupted by Amy finding what she probably deems to be the perfect, funniest unsexy picture he took of her. And whatever picture she chose, Amy is wrong because not a second goes by where Amy doesn’t look absolutely stunning. He’ll never stop being in awe of her.  
  
“Okay, it’s your turn now!”  
  
As if on cue, Jake starts deep-throating a banana.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 4 | 1654 HOURS**  
  
“You were in the shower for over half an hour,” Amy points out, almost curiously, a mild sting of accusation in her voice.  
  
“And?” Jake retorts with a shaky confidence, because he didn’t expect her to catch him.  
  
“You’re usually in there for a maximum duration of ten minutes.” She crosses her arms. “What was going on in there? Were you trying to slack off work?”  
  
“Why do you think I was in there so long? You can’t expect me to go eight days without taking care of some needs, Amy.”  
  
The words barrel out of his mouth confidently, which is not something he had expected to happen. But then again, he supposes confidence is the only way he can get through this. A blatant disregard for what private information is okay to reveal.  
  
“What nee—oh. _Oh.”_  
  
“Yup,” Jake swallows as he walks back to his chair. “Had so many uh, bongo fantasies to work through.”  
  
“Bongos?”  
  
“Yeah, what’s wrong with thinking about bongos?”  
  
As nice and round as bongos can be, Jake’s thoughts in the bathroom were more along the lines of a soaking wet Amy in the shower with him, all his to touch and play with, wanting him as much as he needed her. Sensitive and weak for his hands, only satisfied when he stopped teasing her with his cock and fucked her with it instead.  
  
“I just... why not a djembe? Or a damaru drum? Or a goblet drum?”  
  
“What are those?” he says, but not like in that vine, just, a genuine inquiry about the aforementioned drums.  
  
“Drums with better curves than bongos, which are short and stout. Theoretically, the drums I mentioned are much sexier, and more deserving of your attention.”  
  
He chuckles, fascinated by the depths of her mind, as usual. “Amazing. So, what else do you think I should fantasize about when I touch myself, Ames?”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 4 | 2221 HOURS**  
  
He’s just collected more evidence than he could dream of getting. They have Alexei Bisko dead to rights now, basically. Him and Amy could pack and go home. Of course, it’s best to stay on and collect as much evidence as possible, bring down as many members of the Ukrainian Mafia as they can.  
  
Obviously, the real reason why Jake wants to stay for the full eight days has less to do with thorough evidence gathering and more to do with him wanting to spend as much time with Amy as he can. It’s almost mental, the extent to which he wants to stay by her side, considering how increasingly unbearable it’s been to be in Amy Santiago’s presence. It’s getting to be too much for his heart (and also his loins if he’s being honest). Things between the two of them have been getting ridiculously heated, and there have been moments (such as a few hours ago) where they’ve just stared at each other in silence after a break in conversation; mostly because Jake said something that might have been overtly sexual (how has Amy not punched him in the face yet?), or Amy said something he just couldn’t respond to because he couldn’t breathe.  
  
The only reason those silent stares don’t end with Jake grabbing Amy and kissing the life out of her, or with him unbuttoning her blouse, pressing her against the table—is because Jake does his best to defuse this situations. Because he knows that kissing Amy out of nowhere on a stakeout would be a dickish thing to do. Amy doesn’t even like him anymore, and this ridiculously huge crush of his should have stopped ages ago. But alas, all Jake can do is tear his gaze away when things get too intense, crack a bad joke that will get Amy rolling her eyes, or if he’s really and truly desperate, he pulls a dumb looking face and they move on.  
  
At the very least, Jake feels safe when Amy’s asleep. Because she can’t do anything to make him want her even more, and she’s completely off limits obviously, so he won’t feel any crippling desire for her at all.  
  
He believes wholeheartedly in this. But that’s exactly when he hears it.  
  
A moan.  
  
Dragging from Amy’s lips. A real, genuine moan. A deep, shaky exhale, tearing away from Amy’s mouth.  
  
A whimper. That gets Jake turning around, seeing Amy lying on her side in slumber, a look of bliss on her unconscious face.  
  
“Mm, yes, please... feels so... good...”  
  
Another moan. And then another one that’s closer to a groan. And then a moan that morphs into a needy whine that makes his cock twitch for her. She sounds so good, she sounds like heaven, and he wants to taste the words coming out her mouth, be the reason for her cries.  
  
Of course, there’s another part of him that wants to exploit this. Amy Santiago is having a sex dream three feet away from him. Shouldn’t he be recording this so he can make fun of her in the morning in a non-malicious way? Ask her who she was dreaming of: Will Shortz or Young Al Gore? Basically, mildly tease her but not humiliate her in any way so that they can have a fun stakeout day ahead.  
  
But this is a thought he has right before the second mind-blowing moment of the night.  
  
“Jake...”  
  
He freezes. This can’t be right. She just moaned his name. Could she be dreaming about him? No, that can’t be. Maybe he just happens to be in the dream. Like, he’s just coincidentally in the room, holding out condoms as she gets fucked by someone else. Perhaps she’s telling him to get out of the room in her dream right now. She could totally, totally be fantasizing about someone barging into their hotel room and then having sex with her, and Jake is only in the room because they’re on a stakeout together.  
  
“Mmm... oh... yes, Jake, right there, please! Please... Harder... So big inside me...”  
  
Fuck. Apparently, in Amy’s sex dream, Jake is both the guy holding out the condoms _and_ the guy that’s fucking her into oblivion. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. This is actually happening.  
  
“YES!”  
  
He clenches his fist to suppress the urge to scream, squeezing harder and harder with each passing second, each passing moan. Or whatever hot sexual sound Amy’s emitting in quick succession. It’s driving him nuts and he feels like he might snap at any second.  
  
“Uh...” she trills, a sexy sound that just happens to be one in a series of the sexiest sounds Jake’s ever heard. “Mm yes, more... ah... Jake!”  
  
It’s the way she screams his name that breaks him. His fist involuntarily comes slamming down on the table, and it’s this one, loud abrupt sound that jolts Amy awake.  
  
A few seconds later, Amy’s sitting up in bed, drowsy and tired.  
  
“Jake? Did something happen?”  
  
He clears his throat, not even turning around to look at her, because he’s afraid that if he does he’ll rush over to her and spill everything he’s heard, and then ask if she wants to experience the real thing, offer her the sex he’d beg her for on his knees. None of those actions are appropriate because his mind is falling to pieces and he hasn’t decided what he’s going to do with this information.  
  
“Nothing, Ames,” he sighs. “Go back to sleep.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 5 | 1207 HOURS**  
  
“Jake? Jake, wake up.” She’s shaking him awake now, and he’s rolling over with a sigh.  
  
“Up, I’m up,” he slurs, mouth mostly shut as he sits up, trudging over to the bathroom to wash up.  
  
“Guess what’s for lunch?” Amy’s voice rings with positivity and excitement as she follows Jake to the bathroom, leaning against the door with a wide smile.  
  
There is an innocence and unadulterated joy to her current demeanor. Jake thinks there’s nothing cuter to wake up to, but at the same time, seeing her face now just brings back all the memories of last night, and the thought of her voice in another context assails his mind; how much he wants to pin her against the wall and mumble praise into her skin makes it hard for him to function.  
  
Hard for him to function _around her,_ strictly speaking.  
  
The game has changed now (whether there was a game in place at first at all is up for debate, but regardless); Jake isn’t just dealing with his crippling attraction and feelings for Amy. He knows, that to some extent, she feels attraction for him as well.  
  
Oh wait. But, but what if she isn’t attracted to him? And the sex dream was a random one, one she woke up to with a laugh, finding it hilarious and ridiculous as a situation?  
  
Great. Now Jake’s in the mind-numbing conundrum of a lifetime. He’s got all this... information about Amy, tucked into his mind, eating away at him without mercy, and he can’t decide if Amy wants to fuck him or not, whether making a move would be the smartest decision he’d ever make, or the dumbest one that will derail his relationship with Amy (or at the very least, give her way too much material to make fun of him with).  
  
“What?” he asks, spitting out his toothpaste. He had brushed his teeth for far longer than usual (so like, a minute) to avoid talking to Amy (despite the very normal topic at hand), because every hair on his body is stiff because of her.  
  
“We’re ordering room service!” she cheers with a little skip in her step as she turns around to walk back to their chairs with Jake. “I called in to check and the department allowed us this. It’s just to celebrate all the progress we’ve made on this case, especially all that evidence you gathered last night. It’s really good, and I’m really proud of you. Those shots you took were perfect.”  
  
Her hand goes on his shoulder conversationally, and it must mean nothing to Amy, just a random touch, a random gesture, but Jake’s heart stops when she touches him. He freezes up actually, gulping when Amy’s hand leaves.  
  
“Uh, cool. Room service sounds good.”  
  
Amy looks a little taken aback by this incredibly mellow reaction. She’d expected a tad bit more exhilaration, some jubilation maybe, but she shrugs it off, and goes on to explain to Jake her plan to ensure the hotel staff bringing their food don’t end up setting foot into their room.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 5 | 1725 HOURS**  
  
Amy doesn’t know why, but she keeps having this feeling that Jake is avoiding her.  
  
Well, he isn’t physically avoiding her, or anything, because they’re literally stuck in this hotel room together for eight days. But he’s been all silent and weird, completely off—that personality of his that she so loves non-existent, and in its place is a mostly silent man, who’s barely responding to her. It almost feels like he’s ignoring her, and giving her curt and brief replies at most, doing the bare minimum to avoid being rude.  
  
For starters, when she told him about how they’d been granted room service for lunch as a special treat, he didn’t give two diggity damns about it, when usually she’d expect him to be more excited. He didn’t even grill her about what to order, didn’t even ask to see a menu. He let her decide what to order for lunch. It was so surreal and weird.  
  
Then during lunch, he had no thoughts about the food, he ate quietly without so much as a comment, and all of Amy’s attempts at conversation were snuffed out by his short answers, light nods, and awkward smiles.  
  
Weirdly, she missed him. It was like Jake had been possessed. In a way, he was still himself, but held back, and not in the mood for... being Amy’s friend.  
  
He’s just been so focused on avoiding all conversation with Amy, and apparently very focused on the case, even when there’s clearly nothing to look at, Jake’s concentrating on looking through the binoculars or cameras instead of striking up conversation with Amy like he usually would.  
  
So for the past few hours that’s all Jake’s been doing, and Amy hates it with a passion. But she’s also really worried and concerned about him. Did something happen to him, that she doesn’t know about? Is he mad at her? If so, what did she do wrong?  
  
Finally, Amy can no longer stand the silence and decides to go to the snack vending machine outside their room. She’s actually surprised Jake hasn’t gotten up to take a snack break yet, he usually goes once or twice a day at least.  
  
Perhaps he might want something though, so Amy decides to ask Jake if he wants her to get anything.  
  
“Hey Jake–“ she taps him to get his attention, and Jake flinches. He actually _flinches_ , like Amy’s touch is poison, like he can’t stand to be around Amy for one more second and her physical contact is a disgusting reminder of the fact.  
  
Amy feels a lump gather in the back of her throat, genuinely hurt by Jake’s response.  
  
This also happens to be her breaking point. The exact moment she snaps.  
  
“Okay, that’s it!” Her hands fly up in a flare of anger, her words shooting out like daggers. “What the hell is going on, Jake? You’ve been acting weird all day, and I’m sick and tired of pretending nothing’s wrong. If I did anything, you should tell me! We have to hash out any issues that crop up, or we won’t survive the next few days. Why have you been giving me the cold shoulder? I can’t think of anything I did wrong no matter how hard I try, so just–“  
  
“I heard you having a sex dream about me, alright?” He interrupts in sheer frustration. “I heard you... whining for me, saying my name, begging me to go faster or whatnot, and now it’s weird, because I can’t look at you without thinking about how good it would feel to be inside you, okay?” He stands up now, pacing in vexation. “I can’t, I can’t talk to you without feeling my head spin—because of how hard I’m resisting the urge to fuck you! Okay? Are you happy now? Because guess what, Santiago, you win! I’ve wanted to have sex with you this whole time, heck, before that even. So go ahead–“  
  
She interrupts him with a kiss before he can continue, lips attacking him desperately like she’s finally been granted permission, kisses him like it’s something she’s wanted more than anything, because she has wanted it more than anything, wants it more than a suffocating man needs air, more than a starving man needs food.  
  
Okay, maybe that’s unfair to say. She can think of several things she wants from Jake right now, and as his hands snake around her waist, dragging up her back in a torturously good way, his touch something downright delectable, she has a feeling she’s going to get exactly what she wants.  
  
He moans into the kiss, backing her up towards the bed as she falls back into it, short giggles from the both of them as he kneels in between her legs, sliding his hand up her thigh as he leans down to indulge in her kiss again.  
  
She only realizes how bad an idea this is when his fingers reach for her zipper, undoing her pants in one quick motion.  
  
“Jake, wait, stop.”  
  
His entire face seems to fall six feet into the ground as she says this, and it hurts her to see.  
  
“What’s wrong? Do you, do you not want to do this?”  
  
His voice is crumbling with rejection, and he’s trying not to show his devastation in an effort not to guilt Amy, but Amy can see it, and she wants to get rid of these awful things he’s feeling immediately, she regrets making him feel any sort of pain at all in the first place.  
  
“Jake, ‘want’ and ‘should’ are two different things. You have... no idea how much I want you–“ she sighs almost dreamily, and Jake’s anguish is gone, replaced with a playful smirk–“but we can’t lose focus.”  
  
“Not even for a little while?” he suggests temptingly, his fingers dragging over her chest, giving her sensations she craves, wants more and more of. “I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”  
  
A breathless sigh escapes from the back of her throat, because she knows how much he’ll deliver on this promise, because even now, just simply being straddled by him is making her feel better than she has all week. The pressure of him against her hips has her wishing for some friction, and if she had an ounce less of self-control, she’d start rubbing herself again him.  
  
“I know, but–“ she shuts her eyes when he nuzzles her neck, planting kisses along it with the occasional teeth and tongue. A playful lick here, a tasteful swirl there. He sucks in her skin possessively, already claiming her as his, and it makes Amy dizzy. “But...”  
  
Her breaking down and trailing off only seems to encourage Jake, and his fingers slip into her underwear, finding themselves against her folds. She actually hears the sound of him rubbing her clit, and it’s evident to him now, just how wet she is for him.  
  
“Jake, please–“ she bites her lip, mind so fuzzy she can’t work out whether to tell him to go harder or to stop completely–“we need... we need to...”  
  
“Just let me make you come once,” he whispers into her ear as messily aligned kisses trail down her jaw, ending with her bottom lip between his teeth. He sucks lightly on it and then releases it, dropping a tender peck on her lips. “I need to feel you... hear you come under me.”  
  
She actually moans at that, albeit involuntarily, and it injects a strangely arousing darkness in his eyes. “Yup, like that, just like that,” he marvels. The circles he draws round and round the apex of her thighs go faster and harder and Amy screeches. He’s rendered her numb and her nerves are loaded with pleasure. Stupidly, she lets her leg loop around Jake’s waist to keep him close, as if it would somehow make him go further, magically transform his fingers into his probable hard on, before pushing inside her.  
  
And then a phone rings. Typical. Horrible. A scene that belongs in... let’s say movies, shall we?  
  
Jake groans almost aggressively at the offending sound, and the way Amy moves, the moment fleeting with every annoying ring and chime of that stupid phone, it really sucks for Jake. He’s not having this. But he’s also apparently having this because Amy’s gently pushed him off of her and he’s obediently backed off with a frown, as they both recover (Amy especially, who’s having a bit of trouble catching her breath).  
  
“Can we just let it ring?” Jake asks hopefully. “You were so close.”  
  
She huffs, exhaling through her nostrils. “It could be work.”  
  
Complying immediately, Jake reaches over for their phones, grabbing the one that’s ringing, and answers it because it’s his.  
  
“What is it, Boyle?”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 5 | 1752 HOURS**  
  
After Charles is done lamenting and berating Jake for answering the phone as rudely as he did, Jake finds out that Charles is coming over to bring them dinner, as well as check up on them. So, Amy supposes it’s a good thing they picked up the phone, because chances are Charles would’ve knocked on their door while their naked bodies were intertwined.  
  
And yes, they’re not naked right now, but Amy also said that sex was a bad idea because they needed to focus on conducting surveillance—yet there she was—getting fingered by Jake till near completion like some common fool.  
  
“Okay,” Jake sighs as he hangs up the phone. “That’s over now.” He loves Charles like a brother, but when you’re about to make a gorgeous Amy Santiago (who arguably may or may not be the love of his life) come on your fingers, any form of interruption will be met with hostility and resentment. “We have about an hour.”  
  
He states this with only a mild hint of suggestion, only a very slight raise of his eyebrow.  
  
Amy’s staring off into the distance in thought, which is not a good sign.  
  
“I... I wanted to have sex with you. I would’ve had sex with you, I would’ve went all the way if Boyle hadn’t phoned.”  
  
“Yeah you did!” Jake cheers readily with crossed arms and slow nods, only realizing a second too late (and also when she gives him a look) that he should not be egging her on. “Oh, uh. Sorry?”  
  
“It’s not your fault, Jake.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“But it also means that we can’t have sex. Not until we wrap up this stakeout. We clearly won’t be able to stop once we start. So the only solution is to not start anything at all, at least not till this is over.”  
  
Jake’s lip trembles, because he’s a dramatic, horny loser. “But... but... sex... good?”  
  
She lets out an affectionate chortle at this and gives him a kiss. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get over the way his heart jolts as her lips touch his. “I know. And I promise, the second we get out of here–“ she downright leers at him as she says this, subtly licking her lips as she gives his body a once over–“you won’t be able to escape me.”  
  
His chest heaves with want, this one look apparently enough to painfully arouse him again. “God, please. I don’t think I’d ever be done with you. We’d have to take a week off from work.”  
  
“Maybe not a week,” Amy corrects, her hand resting on his chest, which is not an advisable thing to do seeing how she’s telling Jake not to have sex with her for a few days. God, a few days? That seems like torture. “But we’ll see how it goes.”  
  
His eyes follow her like devoted worshippers, entranced by her, completely fond of her, even when he’s being told he can’t be with her yet.  
  
“Can I have one more kiss? Just, one last one before we go back to creeping on bad guys.”  
  
Her lips spread in a soft grin, and she leans in.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 5 | 1823 HOURS**  
  
They make out for the “last time”, something which drags on far too long and gets way more touchy than necessary. But like all things, it comes to an end, and by some gosh darn miracle (Amy), they get back in their seats and continue their stakeout.  
  
Except whenever Amy looks over at Jake, he’s looking at her. In fact, he’s been staring at her for too long, longer than what’s normal.  
  
“Jake, why do you keep staring at me? Is there something on my face?”  
  
“There’s something beautiful on your face. It’s called your face.”  
  
She purses her lip to keep from blushing. He can’t do this to her right now, it’s not fair! How one man can be both ridiculous yet so charming in the same sentence is beyond her, but it’s probably why she’s fallen so hard for him.  
  
“Stop looking at me, and focus on the job,” she chides.  
  
“It’s not my fault you’re so cute!” He protests, murdering Amy twice in the span of a few seconds. “But fine,” he seemingly relents, taking one look out the window through his binoculars. “Nope, still nothing. Nothing going on at all.”  
  
He goes back to staring at her, but after a while, his face no longer focuses on her face; Amy finds that he’s just staring blankly in her direction. She’s slightly relieved that he isn’t making eye contact anymore, because the tender looks he had been directing her way did something to her. Something deep, dark, and depraved. Something that makes her want to walk all the way over to his chair, straddle his hips. And ride him until he screams for mercy.  
  
“What are you thinking about?” she asks curiously.  
  
“Nothing much, just... imagining how I’d take all your clothes off.”  
  
Amy’s heart gets pounding, her lungs incredibly compromised at his words, that ache between her legs a sharp pain now, pounding and warm like you wouldn’t believe. She crosses and then uncrosses her legs in a futile attempt to keep her cool, and he chuckles at how he’s managed to get her riled up, the triumphant asshole that he is.  
  
“Jake, please. Don’t make this any harder than it actually is.”  
  
“I’m not making it harder, I’m just saying what I’m thinking. I won’t so much as touch you if you don’t want me to, but nothing you do can stop me from thinking about all the ways I’d fuck you if you’d just... let me.”  
  
Amy takes in a deep breath. “Don’t make me come over there.”  
  
“That’s the goal though, isn’t it?” he winks, leaning back in his chair with a simper, satisfied for the moment from getting under Amy’s skin.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 5 | 1943 HOURS**  
  
“Ugh, when’s Charles reaching? I’m starving.” She frowns. “I’ve been sucking on this almond for the past hour to save my stomach.”  
  
“I’ll give you something better to suck on,” Jake offers, slightly spreading his legs, and making Amy’s neck burn in embarrassment.  
  
“Jake, you know why I can’t do that.”  
  
“What are you thinking about you sicko? I was just going to offer you a pistachio.” He raises the bag, shaking it, and Amy rolls her eyes because she completely fell for his tricks, yet again. “But uh, if all you can think about is giving me head, I’m not going to stop you. And, it technically won’t prevent me from doing my job, because even if your head’s between my legs, I can still watch out for bad guys doing drug stuff and exchanging briefcases,” he shrugs assuredly. “I’m a pro like that.”  
  
Amy wants to tear out her hair because he’s too good at this, or he’s bad at this but Amy’s still reacting because she wants him so bad; she feels her self-restraint slowly crumbling. She’s got to beat him at his game or she’ll lose herself to him. If she doesn’t shut him down, it won’t be long before her panties are around her ankles. Carefully, she forms a response.  
  
“Trust me, Jake. If I were sucking you off, you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes open. I wouldn’t let you think about anything else, other than my lips... around your cock.”  
  
She’s almost proud of herself for using the expletive, because Jake clearly doesn’t expect it.  
  
“Damn, Santiago. That’s so hot. Why don’t you come over here and prove it?”  
  
She shakes her head authoritatively. “Nice try, Peralta.”  
  
“Was worth a shot. I guess I get desperate when I’m dying to have sex with you.”  
  
She sighs, leaning back in her seat so that she can avoid Jake’s... existence. Everything he’s doing, all the seduction that’s working, every jolt Amy feels at the pit of her stomach, right up to the aching emptiness inside her she so desperately wants him to fill—it’s clouding her mind and affecting her judgement.  
  
Hearing the doorbell ring at that moment brings Amy great relief, and causes Jake to sigh.  
  
Amy bolts up to answer the door, partly to avoid the simmering tension between herself and Jake, that’s only gotten worse now that it’s out in the open (and not being dealt with), and also partly because she’s absolutely starving.  
  
“Jake, I missed you so much!”  
  
Charles pushes past Amy, dumping their dinner on the table before wrapping his arms around Jake in a tight hug. “Ten minute hug!”  
  
“Charles, it’s only been less than a week. Do we really have to do this?”  
  
“It’s been too long, Jake.”  
  
Jake sighs. “Fine,” and hugs Charles, scowling at Amy as she starts having dinner on her own first with a smirk.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 5 | 2037 HOURS**  
  
Amy lets out a sigh of relief when Charles walks out their room, the door closing shut behind him. “Thank god, I thought he’d never leave.”  
  
“Why?” Jake asks slyly. “Was there something you wanted to do without him around?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, yes,” following this, Amy shrugs off her blazer, which earns her an appreciative but surprised look from Jake.  
  
“Woah, is this really happening?”  
  
“Yes, this is really happening,” she smirks. “I am actually, going to take–“ she pauses for dramatic effect– _“a shower.”_  
  
“Have fun thinking about me in there,” he says without a pause, sitting on his chair the wrong way around, arms crossed on top of it casually.  
  
This display annoys Amy to her very core, because how dare he be cool and composed and flirty—while Amy struggles to keep it together? She knows she can make him a mess of a man, she knows she can take back the upper hand.  
  
With this in mind, Amy chooses her sleep wear very carefully.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 5 | 2123 HOURS**  
  
“You were in the shower for over forty minutes!” Jake announces to his crowd of one, who also happens to be the subject of his teasing. “That may or may not be longer than how long you usually take, because this is–“  
  
His words cut off when he turns around to look at Amy, becoming the definition of ‘stunned into silence’. Following this, he gulps, his eyes glued to Amy’s body.  
  
Why? Well, it might be because Amy’s wearing nothing but a loose turtleneck sweater and baby pink panties. Her bare thighs look perfect and smooth, and he wants nothing more than to run his hands over them, push them apart so he can–  
  
“What is it, Jake?” She asks innocently, eyes staring him down in the most mesmerizing manner. “Were you going to ask if I was touching myself?”  
  
She walks right up to a very frozen Jake Peralta, leaning down carefully and cupping her hand around Jake’s ear like she’s about to tell him a big secret, and seeing how they’re the only two people in the room, this act is symbolic, meant to mess with him more than anything.  
  
“Because I was.”  
  
He shudders. “Damn it, Amy...”  
  
“And I was thinking about you the whole time.” She strategically moves her lips to his neck, ghosting his skin to watch him shiver, then dropping a kiss where he’s most tense, to watch him fall apart for her some more. “I can’t wait for you to be inside me, Jake. I kept wishing my fingers were yours. You’re going to be so good at fucking me.”  
  
He clenches his fist, and she smiles at the way his jaw tightens. “Please, Amy... just—“  
  
“Yes baby?”  
  
He exhales in complete and utter frustration, and she runs her fingers through his hair in a fake attempt to soothe him.  
  
“I want you so bad. Just—sit on my dick? Please? I wanna be inside you, I just–“  
  
“I know.” She sits herself sideways on his lap, amused by how she can feel his trapped erection against her thigh. “But you can’t, because I said so. And you’ll do anything I tell you, right?”  
  
He gulps, gaze fixated on her dreamily. He can want and desire all he pleases, but he remains obedient to her, his heart enslaved by her. “Of course.”  
  
She gives him a kiss, a small reward for being good and not pulling her clothes off like she knows he wants to. He pulls her close as they kiss, his hands sliding under her sweater, humming in delight at getting to touch her bare skin. But he doesn’t travel up too far, not having received permission to do so.  
  
“You’re going to sit here all night,” Amy tells him after they pull apart. “I’m going to be three feet away from you, and no matter how much you feel like it, you won’t get to have sex with me,” she continues, fingers lazily tracing his chest.  
  
“I might just come in my pants if you keep teasing me like this,” he warns sort of playfully, even though it is an actual possibility. “What if I touched myself right here, right now?”  
  
Amy swallows once, the entire persona she’s chosen to adopt here threatening to collapse. “No. You’re not going to touch yourself. Not for the whole night.”  
  
He shifts uncomfortably with a groan, biting down hard on his lip. “You just want me to die from frustration, huh?”  
  
“Is it so obvious?” she gets up and walks over to bed, leaving him for good now. “Good night, Jake.”  
  
“Good night, Amy. I’m gonna have a horrible night, but whatever.”  
  
“Don’t be so spurned,” she coddles. “Maybe if you do a good job, I’ll give you a reward tomorrow.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 6 | 1200 HOURS**  
  
Jake wakes up to a painfully sexy Amy Santiago straddling his waist.  
  
“Rise and shine,” she quips with a lovely giggle.  
  
He sighs sleepily. “I see you haven’t changed out of your... what you were wearing last night.”  
  
“Why would I?” she smirks powerfully. “I never change out of my sleepwear until the both of us are keeping watch together.”  
  
“True. Honestly, I don’t think I care now. Would love to see you in this all day,” he strokes her lace-clad hips. “Would love to see you in less, actually.”  
  
“Too bad you’re not going to.”  
  
“Not even as a, reward?” he emphasizes that last word with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t forget, did you? Because I seem to recall you offering up a prize for me if I did a good job. And I don’t know if you’ve seen all the evidence I’ve gathered–“  
  
“As a matter of fact, I did.”  
  
“Cool, cool. So question now is—where’s that reward? Is it this?” he gestures to their current set up. “I mean, as much as I like feeling you sit on top of me, I think I deserve something more for all the work I’ve done, don’t you?”  
  
“Relax. I’ve got your reward right here...” she slowly slides a hand down from the top of Jake’s chest all the way to his crotch, relishing the grunt that Jake produces in frustration, the way he shivers pleasurably at her touch. Her fingernails graze his member through his boxers, and she watches his back arch into her touch, watches him slowly start to harden. Then, she leans down until her lips are beside his ear for a whisper. “Your reward... is getting to eat me out.”  
  
She sits back up with the cheekiest laugh, looking very proud of herself because she somehow thinks that she’s successfully messed with Jake. That she’s punk’d him, that her reward is somehow subpar as compared to what he might expect.  
  
“You’re acting like that’s not something I’d want.”  
  
Her face freezes. “It is?”  
  
“It’s the best thing I could ever hope for,” he gives her a kiss on the cheek before gently shifting her away and getting out of bed.  
  
He seems to be walking towards the bathroom when he stops and spins back around.  
  
“Should I brush my teeth or nah?”  
  
“Are you kidding me? Of course you have to brush your teeth.”  
  
“I dunno, just thought that maybe a minty tongue wouldn’t be a good idea for eating you out with.”  
  
“I’d take a minty tongue over all the bacteria that built up in your mouth overnight any day.”  
  
He clutches his chest dramatically. “Hurtful thing to say to someone who’s literally about to go down on you, but sure.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 6 | 1218 HOURS**  
  
“Jake.”  
  
“What?”  
  
He bites his lip as he continues to look out his binoculars, resisting the urge to laugh.  
  
“What happened to eating me out?”  
  
He puts down his binoculars and looks up at her innocently. “What about it?”  
  
“Why aren’t you doing it?”  
  
He crosses his arms, putting on a face of mock realization. “Oh, you wanted that now?”  
  
She scowls, and it’s all he can do to keep from laughing. “I mean, yeah!”  
  
“But... isn’t eating you out supposed to be my reward?”  
  
“Well, yes–“  
  
“Great.” He grins. “So I decide when I want to collect my reward.”  
  
Amy scoffs, clearly very frustrated. She’s not even sat down in her chair like Jake is, just pacing around his area, sexually frustrated which she has been for days, but right now it’s much worse than usual because her body was expecting some sort of satisfaction in the form of Jake’s annoying lips put to good use between her thighs. The fact that he’s withholding this pleasure is driving her body crazy with want. And also anger.  
  
Sure, she’s the one who decided that they shouldn’t have sex, but Jake giving her oral isn’t exactly sex. It’s more of a... subset. Of sex. Or subsex, if you will.  
  
And no, she’s not caving. She still thinks it’s a bad idea for them to have actual, proper sex. She feels like she’d have no control over that. But Jake eating her out? That is one sexual exchange, one simple transaction, that she is certain she can keep under control.  
  
But apparently, she has none of the control right now. Jake riled her up by going on about how eating her out would be a great reward for him, but now he’s refusing to do it. And for what? To be petty? Because he wants more than just to eat her out?  
  
Then fine, if that’s the case, Amy will give him something more.  
  
(And no, she is not caving into her sexual desires. She is just trying to get Jake to um, to complete his reward.)  
  
“Don’t you want to taste how wet I am for you?” she asks in the most provocative voice she can pull, sliding her arms around Jake’s neck from behind, kissing his jugular softly.  
  
He inhales deeply, and Amy smiles as she continues to nuzzle his neck because she knows she’s affecting him, and she thinks her plan is working. Soon, Jake will get up from his chair and drag Amy to bed so that he can go to town on her.  
  
“Of course I wanna taste you. Think about that all the damn time.”  
  
“Then come to bed and taste me. I promise you I’ll taste good.”  
  
He shudders. “I know, I’m not gonna get enough of you.” He swallows, then shifts in his seat, the bulge in his pants looking more prominent than usual already, bringing a smile to Amy’s face. “But I’ll do that later.”  
  
Amy’s smile comes crashing down and it feels like glass has shattered, the glass being her expectations.  
  
“What? Later?” Amy steps back from Jake like he’s piping hot tea she’s just been scalded with.  
  
“Yeah, Amy.” He looks up at her, with a bullshit face, crap wad eyes, and a... dick butt excuse of a hardworking attitude (Amy is very good at insults). “We have important work to do.”  
  
She goes up to him now, grabbing his shoulders from the front, seething and doing a poor job of hiding it. “What would make you want me right now?”  
  
His eyes give her a once over, and even the way he eyes her body makes her quiver. He slides his hand up her thigh, humming appreciatively at getting to touch her, and Amy sighs because she just wants him to press himself into her already, and having his fingers near where she wants him with an excruciating need makes everything so much worse.  
  
“I already want you,” he says with a brooding intensity. “I always want you,” he plants a kiss to her hip and she melts.  
  
“But what will make you want me now? What will make you go down on me right now?”  
  
He simpers at her. “So... that’s not just my reward anymore? It’s something that you’re demanding from me?” He sits up straighter and looks Amy in the eye. “You want me that bad?”  
  
She ignores him, refusing to admit it, even though it’s obvious. She sits in his lap again, and Jake’s hand casually goes on her back, caressing it. He could get used to this.  
  
“You wanna see me naked?” His hand stops moving, and Amy smirks, because she’s sure that this time, she’s really got him.  
  
He swallows, and the desire in it is prominent. “Since the day I met you.”  
  
She exhales, and the breath leaves her lungs so fast it’s almost a gasp. “Really?”  
  
“I hate that I did, but yeah.” He brings her hand to his lips and gently smooches her fingers. “You were just so pretty. I couldn’t stop myself from wanting you.”  
  
“So... I was pretty back then huh?” She smiles, her heart pounding. “What am I now?”  
  
“You’re... hot. Stunning. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Sexy.” He heaves, looking at her. “Cute. Fuckable as hell. And so... perfect for me.” His fingers tease her, up and down, only the thin material of her underwear separating her slit from his touch.  
  
“Jake... please?” she whines, and he actually kind of complies for once, stroking her through her panties faster, eliciting the most pained moans from her.  
  
“You’ll let me see you naked?” he asks, whispering this into her ear as her legs fall apart because of what he’s doing in between them.  
  
“I... I want you to see me naked–“ she gasps in pleasure as Jake pushes her underwear aside for his fingers to get into her slick wet folds. Slowly, he pumps two of them in and out of her and she can barely cope. “I want you to touch me, please, Jake, I want you everywhere.”  
  
“You sure? What happened to not having sex until after the stakeout?”  
  
“Just—just make me feel good, please?”  
  
He gives her a kiss on her cheek, which feels so different now that he’s fingering her into heaven and beyond. “Sure, baby. Come on my fingers first and then I’ll eat you out, okay?”  
  
Amy whines, partly in anticipation of everything he’s suggesting. “Kiss me.”  
  
He obliges immediately, tasting her every whimper and groan as it escapes her parted lips.  
  
This... is when the doorbell rings.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 6 | 1237 HOURS**  
  
Amy’s eyes flicker open and Jake’s fingers slow their pace as he looks over at the door, as if looking over will help him determine who’s on the other side, help him determine what’s interrupting this perfect moment for him.  
  
“Ignore it,” Amy commands in a harsh whisper in between pants, and Jake obliges her instantly, his fingers going in and out of her so fast she nearly screams–  
  
“Jake? Amy?”  
  
Thankfully, the voice they hear calling them stops Amy from screeching—instead, her heart stiffens in trepidation—because Rosa Diaz is standing outside their hotel room, calling their names.  
  
Jake gives Amy an equally panicked look, his hands frozen in place, but Amy looks far more freaked than him, which gets him pulling himself together for her.  
  
“Go get dressed now, I’ll stall her,” he instructs quietly, and Amy leaps out of his lap and cautiously tip toes her way into the bathroom, collecting her work attire along the way to get dressed.  
  
“Coming!” Jake responds, his voice slow with hints of reluctance, in order to give off the vibe that the reason why he’s taking so long to answer the door is laziness, not Amy sitting in his lap in her underwear whilst getting fingered by him.  
  
He notes how his fingers are still slick with Amy’s arousal. For a very brief moment, he considers tasting her off his fingers, but he supposes right now isn’t exactly the best time, and settles for wiping his hand on his sweatpants before reaching for the door handle.  
  
“What are you doing here?” The question barrels out from him with very obvious annoyance. The annoyance is real—because as much as he treasures Rosa’s friendship, she’s really ruining a great and important moment in his life here—so she’d better have a good reason for dropping by unannounced.  
  
She scowls at him suspiciously. “Dude, what’s with you?”  
  
He takes the anger down a notch, because he shouldn’t be rude to Rosa, and also she’d rip him to shreds if he crossed a line.  
  
“Nothing, sorry,” he apologizes. “Didn’t get that much sleep. I’m all grouchy and stuff.”  
  
“Okay,” Rosa accepts this, dumping a brown bag of... something on Jake and Amy’s table.  
  
“What’s that?” Jake asks, genuinely curious.  
  
“Lunch. Philadelphia cheesesteaks from Brooklyn. Gina got them, said she thought it’d be fun to have steak out on a stakeout.”  
  
Jake genuinely grins at this, forgetting his heady arousal in light of Rosa’s arrival and also Gina’s timely pun. He has to admit, it’s the best pun anyone has ever made, ever. Except not really. It’s both impressive yet obvious at the same time.  
  
“So you came by just to deliver lunch? Or, let me guess—you’re here to see if I’ve caved yet. Well let me tell you, Amy and I have had zero conflicts–“  
  
“I’m not here because of the stupid bet–“ Rosa sighs, walking to Jake and Amy’s surveillance table, sorting through their stuff, shuffling through the pictures they’ve got in their cameras–“I’m here because of Giggle Pig.”  
  
“Giggle Pig?” Confusion is genuine and evident in Jake’s voice.  
  
“Yeah, I was following up on a Giggle Pig lead that led me here—a major Giggle Pig supplier just did an exchange with one of Bisko’s henchmen ten minutes ago—this just tied the Ukrainian Mafia into the case. I got some pictures on my phone earlier but I’m sure you guys got better pictures at a better angle, right?”  
  
Rosa looks up at Jake, whose face is ashen. Crap, ten minutes ago, both Amy and himself were rather... preoccupied.  
  
“Uh... no?”  
  
“What?!”  
  
Just then, Amy emerges from the bathroom, actually flushing and turning the tap on and off to make it sound like she had taken a legitimate trip to the bathroom.  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
“Amy, did you take any pictures of the Giggle Pig deal that went down with one of Bisko’s henchmen earlier?”  
  
There’s an urgency to Rosa’s voice, as well as a tiny glimmer of hope, because surely the responsible Amy would’ve noticed something, right?  
  
“Giggle Pig? What are you–“  
  
“Oh my god, forget it. Obviously, neither of you got the evidence I need, which means I’ll have to rely on my stupid phone pictures that aren’t even clear enough.” She huffs, clearly under a lot of pressure. “Look, I know your stakeout has been successful and all that, but that doesn’t mean you should be slacking off. We all have big fish to fry, and if I don’t succeed in taking down the Giggle Pig drug ring, _I’m_ the one who’s getting screwed for it, okay?” She takes in a deep breath, voice shaking. “Wuntch stopped by, the _Police Commissioner_ stopped by—there’s a lot of heat on me, and failure is not an option—so can the two of you get your heads out your asses and focus on getting evidence that can help me with my case too instead of just being happy with what you already have?”  
  
Jake and Amy’s hearts tremble with guilt at this.  
  
“Rosa, we’re really sorry. We promise we’ll make it up to you.”  
  
Rosa exhales, her heart already softening. “Whatever. Thanks. I guess I shouldn’t be that hard on you guys. I know long term stakeouts aren’t easy—just, try to keep a better lookout for evidence that I might need—okay?”  
  
“Of course,” Jake swears. “You have our word.”  
  
“I have another lead to follow up on,” Rosa informs them as she whips out her phone, texting and walking away. “Gotta go now. Hope you like your steaks.”  
  
And just as quickly and suddenly as she had arrived, Rosa Diaz disappears, leaving behind a sense of guilt and wrongdoing at the pits of their stomachs.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 6 | 1723 HOURS**  
  
After Rosa leaves, there’s this mutual understanding between Jake and Amy that they shouldn’t have fucked up as much as they have. They should’ve been keeping watch and focusing on work instead of toying with each other, playing games. Amy (when her mind hadn't been poisoned by desire yet) was right all along—them starting anything during this stakeout would be a bad idea.  
  
So they focus on the stakeout, only briefly losing sight of their mission to eat their lovely steaks—god bless Gina—and they manage to gather a good amount of evidence. They report to Rosa about things regarding Giggle Pig and she’s grateful, and no longer mad or frustrated, which is a relief.  
  
“Gina just texted and said she saw Rosa smile today.”  
  
“Thank god.”  
  
Sex is great and all, but making your friends happy is the most important thing of all.  
  
That being said, sex is still very very great and good and amazing and important.  
  
And as the day starts to pass them by, less and less activity happens, which is odd but very convenient for the narrative.  
  
The less criminal activity that Jake gets to preoccupy himself with, the more he thinks about Amy. The more he thinks about how he still wants to fuck her, or at the very least, make her come at his command. Thoughts and memories about the way she moaned for him, begged for him; he remembers how wet she was for him, remembers how warm she was, his fingers inside her, how much he’d love for his cock to be buried deep inside her instead, how good it would feel.  
  
“I’m getting bored,” he tells Amy, giving his eyes a break from staring at the outdoors. Instead, he lets his gaze linger on her, eyes mesmerized by how picturesque she looks, as usual. Captivating, bewitching, and other synonyms that describe this sentiment. Amy’s not perfect—she’s more than that. She’s better than perfect. Really, the concept of perfection should try and emulate her.  
  
“What am I supposed to do about that?” she asks, but it’s not hostile in any manner, in fact, she says it with a bit of a snicker, looks at him with yet another dazzling smile.  
  
“Take off your shirt,” he suggests with a brazen face. “That’ll get me going.”  
  
“That would also make you very distracted.”  
  
Jake scoffs. “Stop flattering yourself.”  
  
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Then look away as I get naked right next to you.”  
  
He bites his lip at the thought. “That sounds impossible,” he exhales. This is mostly because Amy is no longer a friend he has a forbidden crush on, but someone (still a friend, but more) who he’s crazy about that would actually let him see her naked. Challenging him to deprive himself of the opportunity would be hell, and thus, physically impossible. “How could I turn away when I know you want me to look?”  
  
She goes slightly red, especially because his eyes cast a certain appreciation upon her that’s making it harder for her to breathe by the second. “Who, who said I want you to look?”  
  
“You, hours ago.” He smirks. “I may have a horrible short term memory but I’ll die before I forget you telling me how badly you wanted me to see you. Birthday suit stylez. I also vaguely remember you begging me to go down on you, you know, asking me to make you feel good and all. I can do just that for you, babe. All I wanna do is go right over there and touch you.”  
  
Amy pushes her legs close together, as if tightening her arousal will make it go away. She takes a deep breath, because his simple words are making her ache so badly for him, it’s all she can do not to run over to him and grind against his cock, the one she knows is painfully hard for her, the one she felt pressed against her, the one she wants to play with, ride on, put in her mouth to make him weak.  
  
“Jake, you know we can’t do that.”  
  
“Says who?”  
  
“Says you, a few hours ago.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 6 | 1256 HOURS**  
  
“Okay,” Jake takes a deep breath. “This really sucks to say, but as much as I want you right now, I think we have to take a rain check. Rosa needs our help.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 6 | 1739 HOURS**  
  
“God damnit,” Jake curses, hating his past self for having a sense of morality and wanting to be a good friend and detective.  
  
“Yup,” Amy nods, picking up her binoculars to look out the window. “And you were right. As much as we want this, it’s not something we should be doing right now.”  
  
“True, but I’m still bored, and it’s been like, a million years since anything cool happened. We should do something, something that’s kinda fun but not too distracting. So we can still keep watch.”  
  
“Hmm.” Amy supposes she can approve of that. “What do you suggest?”  
  
“Truth or dare?”  
  
Amy snorts. “Really? I thought we were functioning adults in our thirties, not teenagers at a party.”  
  
“Never assume that I am a functioning adult,” says Jake with an insouciant smile. “And I would’ve suggested seven minutes in heaven, but I think I’d need at least a few hours with you.”  
  
He’d need a few lifetimes with her, actually. Not just for sex—he needs more time to bask in her wondrous presence, more time to spend with her, because he always seems to crave more. Every passing second with her is heaven, but in its own special way, it’s also hell.  
  
“How are we even supposed to play truth or dare with just the two of us? That’s not going to be fun.” Amy inquires, clearing her throat and refusing to entertain the brilliant thoughts of Jake. She feels like she might explode at any second, actually. It’s quite hard to want Jake this badly, doing all she can to get him to touch her one moment, only to reject any of his advances and cleanse herself of any sort of primal thoughts the next.  
  
“Don’t worry, I always have fun with you. It’ll be fine.”  
  
She’s genuinely touched by this comment.  
  
“Okay. Who goes first?”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 6 | 1745 HOURS**  
  
They set down some ground rules first before they play. Stuff like—no sexual dares, or dares that could potentially distract them from keeping watch, and disappointing Rosa again. These rules are there to ensure things don’t get out of hand, and that Jake and Amy don’t enable each other’s sexual desires or advances. And it works, for a time.  
  
Amy’s having the time of her life laughing at Jake standing at various places in the room, trying to make a shot with his mini basketball and the hoop she fixed. He’s failing miserably, which is bad for him and great for her since there are just far too many points on the line here.  
  
Yes, they somehow worked a point system in their special little game of truth and dare, because everything is a competition with these two. They are truly pieces of trash, trash that want to make love to each other.  
  
“Okay, I give up. Zero points for me, but I’m earning those back,” he declares determinedly, finger outstretched in a way that flatters his hand.  
  
“You sure you don’t just suck at basketball?” Amy taunts, and it actually brings such a genuine smile to her face, seeing Jake glower in response.  
  
“I’m going to dare you to make three-pointer throws too, and we’ll see who’s really bad at basketball.”  
  
Amy sniggers. “It’s a pity I don’t care about being good at basketball.”  
  
“We’ll see about that. It’s your turn now—truth or dare?”  
  
“Truth,” she says immediately, looking pleased with herself for avoiding Jake’s very obvious dare plans.  
  
He seems bitter at first, but then a thought appears to have occurred to him and he lights up again. “When did... you last touch yourself?”  
  
Dare. She should’ve picked dare. His arms are crossed nonchalantly as he continues to watch her fall apart, and the smug, satisfied simper he has on isn’t helping. “When, when did you last touch yourself?”  
  
It’s not supposed to work this way, obviously. Amy’s not supposed to turn the question on Jake. But he seems more than pleased to answer.  
  
“That’s easy. It was the last time I showered. Thought about you, obviously. I only ever think about you. It’s all I can do in those showers too. You’d think I’d be cleaning myself but no, I’m mostly beating off, picturing you, thinking about how much I want you in that shower with me. On your knees... Against the wall...”  
  
(Kindly do note that Jake is exaggerating for an effect. He does an adequate job of cleaning himself in the shower. Hygiene is important. Thank you.)  
  
Amy shudders. Her mouth is dry and she needs water, but the only thing within reach that’s at all wet is in between her legs. And god, she wants to reach in between her legs so badly. More than that, she wants Jake to find his way in between her legs, tear her apart the way she knows he can.  
  
“So when’s the last time you touched yourself, Ames? Or can you not remember?” He smiles. “Because I think I remember you mentioning something about it before. I just want to hear more.”  
  
He’s talking about how he caught her taking a longer shower than usual, and how she basically confessed to having touched herself, having thought of him. But, contrary to his beliefs, that was not the last time she had touched herself.  
  
“It was last night.”  
  
“Hmm. Sounds familiar.”  
  
“In bed.”  
  
“Wait–“ he stiffens–“in bed?”  
  
He seems to have been derailed by this, and in spite of her own distracting and debilitating arousal, she gets this bit of pride at having caught him off guard like this.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“While I was—while I was there?”  
  
She simpers now, cockily. “I kept quiet. And you were so focused on keeping watch you didn’t see me move. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I had to take care of the problem.”  
  
“Fuck,” he bites his lip hard. “Ames, please, don’t fuck with me like this.”  
  
“I’m not lying, Jake.”  
  
“I know,” he huffs, almost in disbelief. “That’s what makes this worse.”  
  
He had been focused on keeping watch the whole time, all because Amy mentioned giving him a reward if he did a good job collecting evidence. He was so driven towards achieving the unknown, he didn’t turn back to see the real reward.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“You know I’m not,” he looks at her with the hunger of a thousand starving men. “I would’ve given anything, anything to have seen you touch yourself. Bet you looked so good, getting yourself all wet for me.”  
  
“I was,” she drawls. “It’s too bad you can’t dare me to touch myself right now.”  
  
Jake lets out a deep and strangled sigh. “And to think all I wanted a minute ago was to watch you be bad at basketball.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 6 | 2055 HOURS**  
  
“Good night, Jake.”  
  
His head whips around, and he’s about to start whining about how he wants her to stay up longer because he’ll miss her when he sees what she’s wearing.  
  
“No. No, that—this? This is not okay!”  
  
She’s wearing one of his plaid shirts. It’s red and black, and if he thought he looked hot in it, he thought right, but next to her, he’s nothing. Amy looks like she just walked out from one of his absurd fantasies, and he’s pretty sure he’s dreaming, because none of this can be real, yet it is, it’s happening, and he has to deal with it.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind,” Amy subtly crosses her arms and Jake feels his head lose blood. “I borrowed your shirt.”  
  
That’s the problem, you see. That’s all she borrowed. She borrowed his shirt, and is wearing only his shirt. He can’t even tell if she’s wearing underwear, for christ’s sake, because the damn hem of the shirt stretches a third of the way down her thighs. She looks so maddeningly good, so god damn sexy in the shirt that’s too big for her, and he wants to take his clothes off of her body.  
  
“Why... why? Why would you do that? You have your own clothes.”  
  
He very clearly looks frustrated, and it is this very sentiment that has Amy thriving.  
  
“Because I ran out of shirts.”  
  
“You’re Amy Santiago, you don’t run out of shirts on a planned trip. I know you packed enough clothes.”  
  
She looks at him inquisitively. “Are you mad at me, Peralta?”  
  
“Yeah. I’m so mad. You’re such a bad girl.”  
  
She only laughs in his face. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re loving this.”  
  
Curse his stupid cereal mascot face! Anyway, she’s right. As much as this hurts to watch, he’s loving every second of Amy Santiago, parading around in his shirt. It makes him think about what things between them could be like—he imagines warm Sunday afternoons where she’s casually seducing him like this in their own home that they share—he wants to be with her so badly, in more ways than one.  
  
“I do. I love this, but I’m going crazy.” His tongue runs over his lips. “I wanna touch you.”  
  
She walks over to him, and he shifts in his seat because there’s something about her getting closer to him in that get up that drives him wilder with want for her.  
  
“You poor thing.” She picks his hand up and slides it up her (read: his) shirt. He nearly groans when his fingers make contact with her hips, touching her rear, realizing how bare it is and fuck—she’s actually not wearing any underwear. That’s one mystery solved. He’s so tempted to push her (again, read: his) shirt up, reveal her midriff, kiss his way into her skin, touch the body he so craves, but he knows that going that far would mean no turning back, and besides, he’s not allowed to do any of that.  
  
“You feel any better, babe?”  
  
There’s some... strangely placed concern in her voice, like she’s actually genuinely worried that Jake will die from how badly he wants her. And she’s absolutely right to be worried, because Jake wants to die, preferably in some sort of sexual ecstasy with Amy, but Jake wants to die, and is dying.  
  
“Not really.” His eyes flick up to her face. “Wanna kiss you.”  
  
She immediately indulges him, dropping down with a sweet smooch, moving against his lips careful and yearning, wanting him like he wants her. He lets out the start of a small moan before she pulls away, lets up from their kiss.  
  
“Damn it, I hate this,” he sighs. “I actually hate this. You can’t... you can’t be so perfect. And amazing. Everything you do just makes me want you more.”  
  
“I’m sorry. Should I take off the shirt?”  
  
He looks at her almost sternly. But really, the gaze, the glint in his eyes is more accurately described as intense. “You know I won’t be able to control myself anymore if you do that.”  
  
A shudder runs through her.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 6 | 2229 HOURS**  
  
“Mmm...”  
  
“Amy?”  
  
He’s in the middle of snapping pictures of a very crucial development in their stakeout when he hears it. Some shifting. Sounds. Amy letting out a little whine.  
  
“Yeah?” The word sounds breathy, like she’s struggling to say it, in a way that gets Jake struggling too.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“Touching myself.”  
  
He bites hard on his lip when he hears this, because this woman is clearly out for his life. She definitely wants him dead somehow, he’s sure of it.  
  
“Amy, why?”  
  
He’s not saying this in a ‘you shouldn’t jerk off’ way, but rather in a ‘why would you do this to me now’ way.  
  
“Mmm...” she hums pleasurably, clearly not entirely focused on their conversation. “Because I can’t sleep. I keep wishing you were here with me.”  
  
Jake shuts his eyes for a second, then opens his eyes because he has to snap a picture. This is the greatest multitasking task of his life, one activity being crucial for crime solving and keeping drugs off the streets, and the other being the biggest known distraction to him.  
  
“What if I just stopped all this and joined you right now?” he suggests, because hey, maybe these pictures that he’s technically supposed to take right now aren’t that important. Especially not in light of the gorgeous Amy Santiago fingering herself a few feet away from him.  
  
“You know you can’t.”  
  
“Why not? I wanna make you scream, babe. I don’t care about anything else right now.”  
  
He swears he can hear her fingers circling her clit, rubbing at it in ecstasy, thinking about god knows what. He wants to be her fingers, he wants to rub her clit, going fast and slow, making Amy cry in want for him.  
  
“You’ll do your job. Because you know... you know I’ll be disappointed with you if you fail. You can still get pictures even if I’m back here, thinking about you, touching myself because of you, can’t you, Jake?”  
  
He nearly cries at his next sharp intake of air. “I wanna take pictures of you, babe.”  
  
“Mm, I’ll take some and send them to you.”  
  
“Fuck,” he curses, because the thought of Amy naked already drives him nuts in and of itself—but the thought of Amy posing for nude photos for him? Showing herself off to him? Knowing how good she looks, how absolutely stunning? There are no words to describe this feeling.  
  
“What’s wrong, Jake?”  
  
“You. You’re what’s wrong. God–“ he heaves, so painfully aroused he can barely function–“why are you doing this?”  
  
“Because it’s fun.”  
  
“I swear... the second these losers stop their crime, uh, law breaking stuff... I’m getting back there with you. I’m going to explode, babe, that’s how bad I want you.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 6 | 2301 HOURS**  
  
She’s giggling when he gets up from his chair, almost stumbling as he makes his way to her, grabbing her hands and gently pushing them above her head. Her laughter is so addictive, he lets out a chuckle or two too, but his attention is mostly focused on her, and his eyes are darker than the actual darkness surrounding them.  
  
“Finally,” he breathes, and Amy’s no longer laughing, because her desire quickly catches up to her, and the weight of it sits on her chest as she heaves.  
  
“Don’t you have work to do?” she teases, even though she knows she wants him here as much as he does.  
  
“Forgive me for taking a break.” He reaches into his pocket, whipping his phone out and clicks something, before setting his phone down next to them. “There. Just set a timer. Five minutes.”  
  
“Five minutes?”  
  
“Five minutes with you and I’ll go back to my job.”  
  
“That’s responsible.”  
  
“I know,” he says, hands gripping on her waist to push her towards the bedpost. “All because of you.”  
  
She hums in approval, liking that and also liking how within reach the bed post is. “Are you going to tie me up?”  
  
“You’re so smart,” he begins undoing his belt, and nothing matches the wild rush Amy gets when he whips the thing out from around his waist in one swift motion. “You wanna get tied up for me?”  
  
“Please,” she whimpers, which evokes a deep, guttural sound from Jake, as he proceeds to use his own belt to secure Amy to the bedpost.  
  
“You’re so fucking hot,” he swears as he leans down to kiss her, lips smacking as he drinks her in, wallows in her. His lips quickly move down her chin and on her neck, his lips and tongue playful as his hand holds her neck in place. He doesn’t stay for long, however, because his fingers snake down between her legs and she lets out a piercing cry.  
  
“Jake, Jake—oh god–“  
  
“Fuck, babe, you’re so wet,” a sigh falls from his lips in rapture. “So fucking wet for me.”  
  
“I’m... ah—always wet for you, Jake–“  
  
He grunts, feeling dizzy from arousal, his erection already pressing against her body. He gets so impatient for more of her after this, begins to undo the buttons on the offending flannel acting as a barrier, preventing him access to her skin.  
  
Her shriek cuts through the air when his hand grabs at her breast, squeezing and tugging at it, and it really doesn’t help that his fingers are going faster against her wet folds, dipping into her hole. His tongue swirls around her nipple, sucking on it for a hot second before he releases it from his teeth. He presses and prods against where she’s most sensitive, fingers curious and explorative, tracing her chest, and making her shiver every now and then.  
  
“You’re so soft,” he murmurs against her chest, appreciating the skin that he’s so wanted to touch. His movements slow down, and it’s something that frustrates Amy, because she’s so painfully aroused for him.  
  
“Peralta, please–“ she chokes on her words, sounding so desperate it makes Jake ache even more for her–“please just...”  
  
“Yes? What do you want from me, Santiago?”  
  
“I wanna come on your mouth, please, I want you–“ she inhales sharply, and it almost sounds like a cry–“I want you inside me, and–“  
  
“God, you want everything, don’t you?”  
  
She makes some sort of approving nod or sound and it spurs Jake on; he pulls his fingers away and makes a show of licking them clean. The scent of Amy’s arousal has him so god damn giddy, he dives in between her legs for more.  
  
He licks a slow stripe up her sex and grins against it as she yells, back arching off the bed from the pleasure; he has to hold her hips down to keep her still as he sucks hard on her clit, only sucking harder as she starts babbling nonsense, whimpering and moaning for him. She falls apart more when his fingers start pumping in and out of her again. It’s a crazy, insane onslaught of sexual gratification that she’s being overwhelmed with, and she feels like she’s riding a rollercoaster that just keeps getting steeper and steeper as she approaches her climax.  
  
His name becomes her mantra, she laces it with curses and swears, begging and pleading for god knows what, her toes curling to cope with Jake’s stupidly talented lips and tongue, because every other part of her body is being restrained or held down. If she were to describe it, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t be able to put across the wonders Jake is working in between her legs in any eloquent or coherent manner, just knows that she never wants him to stop.  
  
And just when she’d forgotten about it (to be fair, she forgot about it a long time ago), the alarm on Jake’s phone rings, and in that very instant, Jake’s mouth detaches from Amy, and she nearly screams at the loss of contact. It feels like falling abruptly from an all too high peak, like she tried to reach for something on a high shelf by jumping, and then a ladder fell on top of her head.  
  
He wipes his lips, and it’s the most agonizing thing, having to see that. He looks so pleased with himself, the jerk, like he had planned this whole thing, and he most definitely did, yet Amy fell into it, fell into his trap like an idiot. A horny idiot.  
  
“Jake... what is going on?”  
  
She knows what’s going on, obviously. She’s just giving Jake a chance to regret this stupid idea of his, to put his lips back between her thighs where they belong, to bring her to completion, ride out her orgasm.  
  
“My break is over,” he informs, with just the tiniest of smirks. “Back to work I guess.”  
  
“Jake, no.” She shakes her head, pulling the most pitiable face she can, hoping to tug at Jake’s heartstrings at least a little. “Please, don’t do this.”  
  
“Don’t do what? My job? But Ames, this is my _responsibility.”_  
  
She’s never hated that word more in her life. He’s using it against her, the asshole. If it weren’t for her throbbing arousal, she’d spit in his face. But alas, she needs him to fuck her, in some way, any way.  
  
“Yes, but you haven’t finished your previous responsibility, which was to make me come.”  
  
“I never said I was gonna make you come.”  
  
Amy bites her lip, and she swears Jake can tell that she’s seething, and she can tell that he’s enjoying this.  
  
“But don’t you want to make me come?” She tries to present her body as sultrily and provocatively as she can, which is a bit of a task because her hands are still tightly bound to the bedpost, and she can’t get free. It’s weirdly arousing to know how good Jake is at restraining someone, but she’s too angry to think about that now, even though she is thinking about it, which contributes to her anger. “Don’t you like me?”  
  
Jake takes in a deep breath, and it’s clearly in awe of her. “Oh, I like you so much,” he practically gushes, slowly stroking Amy’s cheek. “You look so good like this, baby.”  
  
She gains a bit of confidence at this. “If you think I look good, why don’t you fuck me? I can make you feel good too.”  
  
“I don’t think I would be able to stop myself if I did that. I’d keep going and we’d lose track. Be patient, okay?”  
  
She scowls at this. She doesn’t believe him, thinks it’s all just a facade. He just wants to punish her, rile her up, get her back for all the suffering she’s caused him. He probably loves seeing her like this, frustrated and not bothering about what’s important, only seeking pleasure from him, it makes him feel powerful, she bets.  
  
“I’m gonna get you back for this.”  
  
He smiles, as if challenging her to do just that. But then he starts fingering her again, maybe to appease her slightly, maybe out of remorse or pity, gently shushing her as her words dissolve into whimpers. He gently removes his belt and frees her hands, which grip onto him tight in an almost comical manner.  
  
He chuckles at this, laughter rumbling out low and sweet.  
  
“I’m not letting you get away this time,” she pulls him closer. “Please, please just make me feel good.”  
  
“Okay. I’m sorry for not letting you come, babe,” he apologizes, for the blatant orgasm denial. “I know it’s not fair to do that right now.”  
  
“Make me come and I’ll stop being angry. Have sex with me and I’ll forgive you,” she says, and it makes Jake sigh with want.  
  
“You’re so perfect, you know that?” he drops a kiss on her lips as he continues to rub her clit, going fast and hard which makes Amy go mad with arousal. “One orgasm, and then you go to bed, okay?”  
  
She nods, because she’ll take anything at this stage.  
  
(It ends up being three, and he gives her a good night kiss, after tucking her in.)

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 0402 HOURS**  
  
Amy doesn’t stir when her alarm rings, signaling the start of her shift.  
  
Obviously, Jake doesn’t blame her one bit. She’s had what, four, five hours of sleep? That’s completely unfair, insufficient, and also just uh... unfair. Jake’s pretty tired and can’t think of words right now. No one can function at 4 am. No one can function _well_ at 4 am.  
  
That being said, he remembers being with Amy at four in the morning. They’ve done stakeouts, or spent all night working on a case at the precinct (that one time when they only had 48 hours to prove Dustin Whitman was guilty springs to mind).  
  
But they’ve never done such a long term stakeout before. Certainly not together. And certainly, not for an entire week all alone in a hotel room. There’s something oddly less stressful about all this, far away from the bustling work environment, rumbling with activity from every corner of every room. It’s so quiet, just the two of them, and they’ve gotten all they can get for their case (and Rosa’s) at this point. Really, some of their evidence is redundant. They have multiple instances of the same people carrying out pretty much the same activities day in and day out (recurring characters include That Lady With The Stuff and That Dude That Has A Briefcase Of Money With Him Always), so it’s easy for their bodies to relax. Even Amy’s responsible body doesn’t respond to an alarm clock on its first ring.  
  
Jake lethargically makes his way towards Amy’s phone and turns her alarm off instead of snoozing it. He figures—she’ll probably better appreciate him waking her up instead of her cellphone. And besides, having another human being wake you up rather than a machine is always more effective, as well as more comforting.  
  
He doesn’t shake her awake immediately. He crawls under the covers with her, having this strange inclination to wake her up while lying in bed, already tucked in and prepared to sleep, so that he can shut his eyes the second she wakes up.  
  
But instead of shaking her, his arms wrap around her. His mind says one thing, yet his body says another.  
  
He’s about to let go and actually try to wake Amy up (thereby ignoring how nice hugging Amy feels) when Amy leans into his touch, actually humming in appreciation, the sound wrapped in a sleepy haze.  
  
And suddenly, Jake finds that he can’t let go. Or doesn’t want to let go. Not yet, at least.  
  
“Ten minutes,” he says, sort of setting a mental body clock alarm, pressing snooze on his brain, as well as telling (a definitely still asleep Amy) that she has that much time left to sleep before he starts waking her up for real.  
  
Jake shuts his eyes, and when he opens them again, eight hours have passed.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1200 HOURS**  
  
Amy’s entire body jerks in near shock when Jake’s alarm rings, you know, the one that’s supposed to ring so that he can get up and join Amy on her shift.  
  
You know, the one that was supposed to start at four in the morning?  
  
Upon seeing an abundance of light streaming in through the window, Amy panics, because there definitely shouldn’t be any light coming through the window at dawn, let alone all the sunlight that's hitting her eyes.  
  
She sits up, throwing the covers off herself in a scurry, and Jake appears to stir as well from all the noise and commotion, as well as Amy’s body leaving his grasp.  
  
“Ames?”  
  
His voice is rough from sleep, his intentions simple and caring.  
  
“Jake, what time is it?” Amy demands to know as she stretches over his body to reach for one of their phones.  
  
“Uh... hopefully—ten minutes after four?”  
  
Amy rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure.” Her heart bursts in some kind of twisted terror when she sees the time and stops Jake’s alarm. “Oh my god. It’s, I—Jake? How long did you let me sleep?”  
  
“Uh... I guess about twelve hours?”  
  
Amy looks sick. Her? Sleep _twelve hours?_ On an important stakeout? No, this just isn’t possible. “And when did you sleep?”  
  
“When my shift... ended. At four.”  
  
Amy’s face falls, and Jake starts looking incredibly apologetic.  
  
“Jake—why didn’t you wake me up?”  
  
“You wouldn’t wake up.”  
  
Amy clutches her face. “I don’t get it, why did I sleep for so long? I–“  
  
“I mean, to be fair—I didn’t try all that hard to wake you up either, so that could be why.”  
  
Amy scowls at Jake. Taking a five, fifteen minute break from the stakeout to eat, or, um, complete some other activities is one thing—but to lose eight entire hours of surveillance time? They could have missed so much. Amy feels terrified at that prospect.  
  
“Jake, why–“  
  
“I was going to! You didn’t wake up after your alarm rang, and your alarm is terrifying so I turned it off–“  
  
“Effective would be a better word, but continue.”  
  
“It makes my ears cry for the sweet release of death, Ames. I’d rather never wake up than be woken up by your alarm tone. But anyway... it’s not your fault you didn’t wake up. You slept, like what? Four hours? At that point? That’s even less when you consider what I was doing to you before you dozed off.”  
  
Amy’s cheeks go red at the reminder that her pre-bedtime activity was basically a series of well-connected orgasms, courtesy of Jake, after he had previously kind of tortured her by not letting her come on his lips.  
  
“That... that doesn’t count. I just lay there and did nothing–“  
  
“ _I just lay there and did nothing,_ title of your sex tape.”  
  
“This is not–“  
  
“I know, not the time, but it’s never the right time, and I couldn’t help it, I'm sorry. Anyway, sure, we slept through a little bit of our stakeout–“  
  
“A little bit?” Amy huffs. “Jake, we were both out cold for eight hours. What if someone had stopped by? What if we missed out on something important?”  
  
Jake looks like he knows Amy has a point. “But... at least you got enough sleep?”  
  
“Twelve hours is far too much sleep, Jake. Especially on a stakeout. How did I even end up sleeping twelve hours, anyway?”  
  
“Maybe you were more tired than you thought.”  
  
Deep down, Amy thinks differently. Oftentimes when she sleeps, her body is still somewhat active, tense, ready to get up and go when she needs to. It’s an important quality as a cop, because she never knows when there’ll be a work emergency, when lives will be at stake, and when those lives would depend on her ability to be conscious and working.  
  
But... wrapped up in Jake’s arms? It’s like his embrace blinded her to the universe. All her responsibilities, her stress, every single thing that makes Amy Santiago tick. She felt none of it. She was dead to the world, and nothing was real but Jake’s arms around her body, those steady hands gripping onto her, protecting her from it all, even without doing anything.  
  
“I think _you_ were more tired than you thought. Weren’t you going to wake me up? Why climb into bed if you hadn’t done that yet?”  
  
Jake shrugs. “I guess... I just, I just wanted to hold you.”  
  
It is anatomically impossible for Amy’s heart to melt from Jake’s words. It would be especially impossible for Amy’s heart to melt at all, without her life basically ending on the spot right there. But as Jake says this, tender and loving, his intentions pure and without any ulterior motive... Amy’s heart melts. Or at least, that’s what it feels like.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yeah. I just, I guess I told myself that I could stand to cuddle with you for like, a few minutes. Before I woke you up. And then I didn’t. I’m... surprised you didn’t bring it up, actually.”  
  
“I guess I didn’t realize.” Because being held by him felt too right. The only thing that wasn’t out of place about this situation. “You... you wanted to hold me?”  
  
He gulps, looking ashamed. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I should’ve–“  
  
“Don’t be. We’ve... done and admitted enough things at this point. I’m not about to sue you for wanting to hug me at, at like four in the morning. Who knows, I might have done the same thing.”  
  
His eyes look down sheepishly, his lips stretched in a soft smile. “You wouldn’t have done _exactly_ the same thing.”  
  
“Yeah, you’re right,” she relents immediately. “I mean, I wouldn’t have let us sleep for _eight hours straight_ when we were supposed to be keeping watch. And if I were going to sleep for a while longer, I would’ve set another alarm to wake myself up so that I didn’t end up sleeping through the day.”  
  
He chuckles, shaking his head as he does. “This is what I love about you. You’re so consistent.”  
  
Her heart rattles, or more accurately, it rumbles, pounding against her chest like you wouldn’t believe. She has to remind herself that he didn’t exactly say ‘I love you’ to calm down.  
  
She clears her throat, getting out of bed. “Okay, uh. Enough chit-chat. We should start working, do some damage control, make sure that no one knows we stopped keeping watch for so long.” She looks distressed as she sighs, long and dreary. “This is going to be a nightmare if anyone finds out.”  
  
“Hey,” his voice flows out, his one intonation already chock full of reassurance. “Let’s focus on the positives.”  
  
She scoffs. “What positives?”  
  
He shrugs, staring at her, looking at her with a familiar sort of hunger, longing. “I mean, for one—you still look hot as hell.”  
  
She looks down, remembering that she still has on Jake’s shirt, and it’s still mostly unbuttoned.  
  
She looks away from him pettily as she buttons it back up, and he laughs as he climbs out of bed to head to the bathroom as well.  
  
“Yeah, keep doing that, as if you’ll look any less sexy.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1207 HOURS**  
  
They’re both brushing their teeth at the same time; it’s almost pointless to bother taking turns to brush their teeth while the other keeps watch—they’ve already missed out on twelve hours, so what’s another two minutes, right?  
  
Jake spits out his toothpaste once he’s done brushing, which incites a slightly disapproving look from Amy because according to her standards, he hasn’t brushed his teeth long enough. But then again, he’s never gotten seven cavities from stripping away protective enamel due to an overaggressive brushing technique, so who’s the real winner here?  
  
He turns on the tap, scooping water up with one hand to wash his mouth clean. Amy momentarily forgets about judging Jake, let alone brushing her teeth altogether to think about how big his hands are. They’re not comically gigantic or anything, but she appreciates how his one hand is large enough to collect water for washing out his mouth on its own. She usually needs both of her hands to do that effectively.  
  
“You look cute,” Jake chuckles as he chucks his toothbrush back into an empty glass, and it alerts Amy to the fact that she’d basically zoned out in thought, and how her brushing actions had slowed to a halt. “What are you thinking about?”  
  
Obviously, she’s not going to tell him that she was admiring his hands—ever since the _Daniel Craig Hands + Close Up_ internet search exposé, he’s been teasing her about having a hand kink—and no way in hell is she ever letting him be right. She’d never hear the end of it.  
  
So, instead of talking, Amy snaps back into a very intense brushing session where she goes hard and fast and—god. Jake’s eyes are still curiously on her, and it’s really not helping.  
  
“You okay?” His eyes slant inquisitively, in that way they get in cases sometimes, when he’s about to have a major breakthrough, put together some amazing solve that no one else could come up with, definitely not as fast as him. His intelligence and the way his entire thought process works... the way his brain is wired? There’s some illogical ring to it but it works in a gorgeous way and he’s so smart sometimes it scares her, yet sends a chill down her spine. He’s so very attractive when he’s hard at thought, but Amy really wishes he wouldn’t do that now. Especially since she doesn’t want him to figure out that she was getting oddly turned on while he was... washing out his mouth (god, she’s really a mess). Also, she doesn’t want to get more attracted to him right now, because it is _really_ not the time.  
  
“Mmhmm,” she nods, spitting out her toothpaste.  
  
“You sound nervous.” He crosses his arms, and again, that is not helping with anything. “Are you hiding something?”  
  
She elects to completely ignore him, deciding to wash out _he_ r mouth instead, because the sooner she does that, the sooner they can start their stakeout shift, right?  
  
He laughs, clearly amused by this, but in a way that gets Amy’s heart pumping because he seems far too interested in what Amy was thinking about; if he were to find out, and act on this information—Amy fears they might never leave this bathroom.  
  
“Come on... tell me what you were thinking.” As he says that, his hand slides down her back, all the way down, down her bare ass right before he cups it, squeezing. She goes breathless, raising her chin in pleasure, shutting her eyes at his touch. She’ll never be over the texture of his skin, and the way his hands on her body can drive her insane.  
  
“Jake...”  
  
“I’ll tell you what _I’m_ thinking–“ he leans in, into her ear as he tells her this–“thinking about how much I love your butt. It’s so perfect... so fun to touch.”  
  
He smacks her ass then, snatching a yelp from Amy’s lips. She immediately bites her lip, embarrassed to have shown such a reaction. Jake laughs low and loving, almost comforting in a way. He slowly rubs the area of impact to soothe it, giving Amy a kiss on the cheek as he does.  
  
“I could just eat you up, babe,” he remarks, right hand settling on Amy’s waist, subtly pushing up the hem of the flannel shirt to gain access to her skin. She really should’ve reconsidered dressing so skimpily around him. Sure, she loved driving him crazy, but right now it’s really backfiring on her.  
  
_“Hands,”_ she heaves, her breaths coming out slow and labored, every tiny movement of his fingers on her skin making her ache so hard it weirdly stings.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I—I was thinking about your hands.”  
  
He smirks, looking oddly satisfied, because of course he is, of course he’s enjoying this. The hand that had been resting on her hip now slowly slides down her hipbone to her thigh, and she swears, feeling his hand less than an inch from where she’s hurting so badly makes her swell; he can probably feel her heat radiating from the way he’s teasing her.  
  
“You really have a thing for that, huh?”  
  
His left hand leaves her backside and is now sliding down her arm; she feels goosebumps all over from the attention he’s lavishing her with.  
  
She silently nods, even though her desire conveys a thousand words.  
  
“It’s okay,” he says, somehow validating her turn-ons. “I like your hands too.”  
  
She gulps. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah. I think they’d look so good, wrapped around my cock.”  
  
She loses all ability to take in air at the moment, her mind going wild as Jake’s hand reaches for her face, turning it around and tilting it upwards for a kiss. His other hand decides to take action and reaches in between her folds, pressing and flicking at her clit in a random pattern that gets her going, but doesn’t push her over the edge. She’s left a mewling mess, mumbling nonsense against Jake’s lips, making sounds that his dreams will remember for days to come.  
  
“Fuck,” he rasps, the kiss getting sloppier, his fingers getting wet and slick against her. “Wanna fuck you, wanna be... inside you.” She sighs, hand sliding up his shirt. He feels so good. “I want you, you bent over this sink.”  
  
She actually whines at this, especially because she can feel his length pressing into her side and she just wants him inside her, she wants him going in and out of her so badly it hurts, she wants him to push her up on the counter, and have his way with her.  
  
“Yes, yes...” her breath hitches, and she turns around now, facing him to get a better angle as they make out messily, just desperate to taste each other, and Amy’s hungry, hungry to the point of no return. Her hand reaches for Jake’s sweatpants, pulling it down to release his trapped cock. Her hand tentatively slides down it, and he actually cries in joy against her lips as she touches him, so starved for so long. She feels bad for him, feels bad that he’s been deprived of this much pleasure. He’s been waiting for her (as well as occasionally withholding himself from her), and patient men get what they deserve.  
  
Slowly, she strokes his shaft, getting familiar with its girth, length, texture. He’s perfect, so fucking perfect for her, and she already knows she’s going to love getting fucked with it.  
  
“Shit,” his hand goes faster, harder against her clit, and whether it’s to get her back for what she’s doing to him, reward her for what she’s doing to him, or a coping mechanism for what she’s doing to him, she doesn’t know, and she doesn’t care, because it’s fantastic and she’s melting, once again. “So good, babe, so fucking–“  
  
She grabs his hand and pulls it away from her, and it nearly shocks him, until she starts rubbing her clit along his length, and she feels so wet and phenomenal, sliding herself back and forth on his cock, allowing them to discover a whole new world of sensations.  
  
“Baby, please, god–“ his throat closes up, his words stuck as he holds onto her. It takes all the self control in the world for him to stay still, and not push himself inside Amy like he so badly wants to. She coats his cock with her arousal and he never wants her to stop grinding against him like that—fuck, she’s so insanely hot—but it makes him yearn to be inside her even more, because he just knows she’d feel hot and tight and he’d get the friction he so badly needs. She goes faster and angles her hips in a way that makes him feel so close to coming all over the floor.  
  
The doorbell rings, and he’s loathe to hear it. They both hear the doorbell ring the second time, and their eyes both flick open in sheer agony. Not again. This can’t be happening again.  
  
“Fuck it,” Jake swears, quickly starting to rut with an insane speed, Amy biting her lip to keep from screaming at the impact this has on her clit, gripping onto Jake for dear life as his hips shake until she climaxes, almost right before he does.  
  
She feels his seed drip down her thigh as he motions for her to stay put, wearing his sweatpants before going to answer the door.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1347 HOURS**  
  
It turns out to be a staff member at the wrong hotel room, and Amy can’t deny the rush of desire that shoots through her spine when Jake almost angrily slams the door shut, having tried his hardest not to show any sign of anger, yet failing a little. Failing a lot. Failing completely.  
  
What happened between them in the bathroom was largely an act of desperation. It was amazing and sensational, but it was also oddly settling for something lesser because they knew they couldn’t have what they truly wanted, what they wanted much more.  
  
(Well technically they can, but it wouldn’t be doing their consciences any favors if they had sex on the job, especially not after Rosa told them off, but also their little trysts are beginning to inch so closely towards sex that they might as well have it already. Still, there is a code of honor to be observed here, maybe, kind of.)  
  
After fairly receiving an orgasm each, however, the haze of arousal clears a bit, and Jake and Amy know, without having to discuss things, that it’s time for them to focus and work.  
  
They have lunch, one that’s quick and simple, right before getting started on the surveillance action. Of course, this is neither fun nor easy. The tension between them is still there, and while in some ways it’s calmer, in some other ways it is also more evident, more intense. They know how insanely good they are together, so now, at the back of their heads (or at the forefront of their minds, let’s be real) sex with each other is all they can think about, and it’s _agonizing._  
  
“I still want you,” he declares, out of the blue, but also with a strangely appropriate timing. Amy has since changed out of the infuriating shirt and is now in her work clothes, supposedly to get into the zone (note: it’s not exactly working), but she still looks attractive as ever. “What happened in the bathroom earlier... that, that was great.” His jaw tightens in torment, and Amy wants that jaw against her in some way, she wants to feel that stubble against her, burning her in the best way possible. “And I can’t, you know, I can’t stop thinking about you.” He seems so afflicted by this, it sends a rush through her too. “Crap, you’re just. You’re hot. You’re too hot, and I just. I need to fuck you, I wanna fuck you _so bad–“_  
  
He grips the sides of his head with his hands, so frustrated, so very much at a loss.  
  
Her desire, which she has been desperately trying to repress, catches up with her in the worst way possible, to the point where she has to gently, subtly rub herself through her slacks to alleviate the pain.  
  
“I mean, like a whole gang, a whole war could happen right now, right outside, out of this window, and I wouldn’t notice because–“ he lifts his head and nearly loses his mind at what he sees–“oh, for—shit.”  
  
She stops immediately after getting caught. She’s unsure how to explain herself, but in her defense, she was in pain, and it was Jake’s fault.  
  
“Ames please, you’re making this so hard.”  
  
“So are you,” she retorts in a near huff. “I’m trying so hard not to think about you too, but you’re all I want, Jake.”  
  
His eyes glaze over, and he can’t tear away his lustful gaze. “You wet for me, babe?”  
  
“You know I am.”  
  
“I turn you on so much it hurts? Hurts so bad you gotta touch yourself even though we’re working?”  
  
She bites her lip, and his stare burns a hole through her. “Yes.” She shifts in her seat, and Jake forces himself to look away.  
  
“This is so hard. All I want is you.” His hands tighten into fists, and he clenches his teeth hard, even though it doesn’t exactly help, he’s desperate for a coping mechanism.  
  
“Maybe, maybe we should do something to take our minds off of this. Something that we could do to fill the time while also still being able to keep watch.”  
  
“What? How?”  
  
Amy forces herself to sink in this thought, standing up and walking towards the countertop as an idea hits her—on her way there, however, she passes Jake’s chair, and he fails to help himself, grabbing for her and dragging her into his lap.  
  
She doesn’t even say a word before she sinks into a kiss with him, and he’s immediately unbuttoning her trousers, unzipping them and slipping into her underwear, desperate for her to moan, for the sounds he so craves. Desperate also, for the way she inadvertently rubs against his arousal, making him go dizzy.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1402 HOURS**  
  
“I think we got a little distracted back there,” Jake banters, quietly laughing at them as he catches his breath. Making out with an insane desire with someone, least of all Amy Santiago, is not good for his lungs. And if kissing Amy didn’t feel so damn good, he’d actually keep this piece of medical advice in mind.  
  
“A little?” Amy heaves, more or less sated at the moment. “We got completely sidetracked.”  
  
“Right,” Jake, who has not had an orgasm this past hour, nods slowly as he tries to piece together what they were trying to do before he made Amy come on his fingers. Oh, they were supposed to be on a stakeout! And they were searching for a passive activity to occupy themselves while they conducted surveillance so that they wouldn’t get bored, or jump each other out of horniness. Although, he supposes they’ve already failed to achieve the latter. “What was your idea?”  
  
“Uh, as I was saying...” she gets off his lap, and it feels empty and cold without her weight and warmth cushioning his legs. She walks over to the counter, holding up a deck of cards. Surprisingly, of all things, a deck of cards has actually been supplied as a free gift for guests in this hotel. It’s not just conveniently there for the sake of plot or anything. “I was thinking, we could play poker.”  
  
“Poker?” He makes a face, then has a realization, causing him to grin. “Like, strip poker?”  
  
Amy rolls her eyes, but then sighs, as if the only person she was rolling her eyes at was herself.  
  
“Kind of. But also... it could be more than that.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1409 HOURS**  
  
Anyway, what’s so special about Jake and Amy’s game of Not Strip-Poker Poker?  
  
It’s simple, really. To start us off, let’s examine how Jake and Amy have altered the rewards for each hand in poker. Usually, in regular poker, the highest hand wins, and the winner gets all the money bet in that round.  
  
The thing is, money isn’t what Jake and Amy are after, and also there’s no point in betting money because money’s no fun without those colored coin looking things. Or poker chips, as they’re called.  
  
Therefore, to make the game more exciting, Jake and Amy have assigned specific rewards for winning a game with a particular hand. There are ten possible hands one could win with in poker, and Jake and Amy have assigned rewards they’ve deemed appropriate for each of them, according to their ranking.  
  
Without further ado:  
  
**_1\. High Card_**  
  
“Okay,” Jake looks up from his phone, which displays a website listing all the rules of poker, because he does not know how to play poker. “I think I sorta got it. So there’s like ten ways to win this thing, but if my cards are better than yours, then I win?”  
  
“Yes,” Amy, who knows how to play poker, nods. “For instance, if I had a three of a kind, while you had two pairs, I’d win.”  
  
Jake nods repeatedly, sort of getting it. “Okay okay, nice nice nice–“ he takes a quick peek at his phone–“and if I had like a straight flush, and you had a four of a kind, then I’d win, right?"  
  
“Exactly. But let’s be real... we’re probably not going to get stuff like royal flushes and full houses. Chances are, there’ll be loads of high cards, some single pair wins—and maybe once in a while, we’re gonna get three of a kind, or two pairs—causing us to lose our minds with excitement.”  
  
“Cool. So... I assume we don’t assign anything too cool for a high card win?” Jake thinks about this for a while, then his eyes light up with an idea. “Ooh, how about this? Person who has the least high card wins by the time we’re done playing has to sponsor dinner!”  
  
The corner of Amy’s lips turn up in a smile. “That’s a fantastic idea! Get ready to regret it though, because you’re going to wind up getting dinner.”  
  
“Oh, are you saying that because I’m gonna be too busy getting bigger and better poker wins than a high card when I win a round? Because that sounds about right.”  
  
**_2\. Pair_ **  
  
“I vote for stripping,” Jake says immediately. “This is the perfect hand for the strip poker part of our Not Strip-Poker Poker—man, that is a mouthful.” Jake exhales. “Anyhoo—I think that winning a round with a pair should mean that the other person has to take something off.”  
  
“Wow Jake, I had no idea you wanted to play poker naked.”  
  
Jake scoffs, because he’s wearing a good number of clothes, and Amy’s insinuation that she’s going to win by means of pair so many times in poker that he’ll be completely naked within a few rounds is a form of trash talk that’s a real stinging burn.  
  
“Yeah, right. Worry about yourself, Santiago. Because I’m gonna get you _hecka_ naked.”  
  
“Then you’ll have to make me, because you’re sure as hell not going to do it by beating me at poker, much less with a pair.”  
  
Jake bites his lip. Even the way Amy trash talks him has this sultry edge to it that gets him going. But ignore his lust he must.  
  
“A little confident, huh?”  
  
Amy folds her arms. “Obviously. You barely know the game.”  
  
“I have the rules open on my phone right here, that I’m going to _constantly_ refer to, so you can suck it.” He says this confidently, making a pathetic lack of experience sound... well, it still sounds like a pathetic lack of experience, but at least he’s confident about it!  
  
_**3\. Two Pair** _  
  
“Easy. You get to put an article of clothing of your choice, back on,” suggests Amy.  
  
“But doesn’t that just make the Losing-To-A-Pair punishment of taking something off redundant?”  
  
“Exactly,” Amy grins. “It’s a way to come back from a loss.”  
  
Jake nods. “You’re right. But what if I were to win with a two pair, yet I still had all my clothes on?”  
  
Amy’s eyes widen in excitement because she arrives at an answer instantly. “You get to, you get to steal an article of clothing from the other person! So we’ll make this reward something that has two options: you can either put one of your clothes back on, or take something away from someone else.”  
  
Jake’s mouth falls open at Amy’s idea, ever so fascinated by every word that comes out from that woman’s mouth. “Yes! I don’t know how I’m going to fit into your clothes, but this is still a dope idea!”  
  
“I mean, you don’t have to wear my clothes, but I guess you could also just wear them a different way–“  
  
But then Jake looks far too delighted by the notion of repurposing Amy’s clothes for his own usage, and it greatly worries her, who now regrets saying anything at all, lest she plant horrible ideas in his head, which she’s pretty sure she’s done.  
  
“Oh god, I didn’t–“  
  
“I’m gonna wear your shirt as a bandana,” he declares, hands rubbing together in glee. “Your panties would make a great bracelet around my wrist, and your bra... hm, I could use some earmuffs.”  
  
Amy groans. “Earmuffs? It’s in the middle of summer, Jake.”  
  
“No excuse for not protecting my ears.”  
  
**_4\. Three Of A Kind_**  
  
“Uh... I’m out of ideas here. What reward would be worth fighting for?”  
  
“I feel like we were really onto something with the you taking off your clothes thing,” Jake winks, and Amy, despite having reddened cheeks, rolls her eyes.  
  
“What a one-track mind,” she sighs.  
  
Jake, in a momentary lapse of confidence, worries that he’s getting too creepy. Worries that he’s pushing Amy to strip too much, and that what he’s doing is not okay. Is he pressuring her? Is she sick of it?  
  
“I... I’m sorry. Did I go too far? I promise, you absolutely don’t have to do anything I’m suggesting if you don’t want to. I mean, I, I don’t even want to see you naked! I’m just–“  
  
Amy immediately shifts in concern, walking over to Jake’s chair to give him a kiss.  
  
“Don’t you dare think that for a second. I want this, I want all of this, and I like all of this. The second I’m uncomfortable, or don’t want something you’re suggesting or doing—I will tell you, okay?” He nods, looking fragile. She leans down to whisper in his ear. “I like that you want to see me naked so bad.”  
  
When she stands back up, Jake looks about ready to pull her into his lap and have his way with her again, rock his hips into her own, relish in her body.  
  
“For three of a kind... the winner gets to take anything they want off the loser.”  
  
She doesn’t say this as a suggestion. She declares it, commands it, makes it clear that she desires Jake’s form just as much as he desires hers. All that playing it cool aside... she genuinely wants him like you wouldn’t believe.  
  
_**5\. Straight** _  
  
She’s still standing far too close to him, instead of sitting in her own chair, the chair that’s five feet away from his own, a good distance that is supposed to help them abstain from each other. Their lack of distance right now is currently proving to be a distraction, because Jake’s eyes are all over Amy again, scouring her body, seeing more than there is to see, because of his memories and his imagination. His fingers reach for the buttons of her shirt, sliding his finger up and down them slowly, as if contemplating whether to reach for and undo any of them.  
  
“You look great,” he rasps, always praising her. “So great. And your clothes are so pretty.”  
  
She strangely likes how he acknowledges this, because she likes the blouse she has on. It has some of her favorite flowers printed on it, and she’s always felt like it was something that could so easily be part of many outfits. But also... she gets the sense that Jake would rather see that gorgeous blouse of hers on the floor.  
  
“Jake, what’s the reward for a straight?” Amy asks, reminding him about the task at hand even though she doesn’t really want to, even though a part of her just wants to say screw it, because why bother with games when she’s already won a prize (Jake)?  
  
“Nothing, no one deserves a prize for being straight,” Jake trails, offbeat, and completely missing the point.  
  
Amy starts to laugh, and this breaks the tension a little, she cracks up at how he completely misread her words, and forgot what activity they were supposed to be engaged in. Also, she laughs because he has a point.  
  
“Babe, I know all you want to do is take off my shirt–“ she grabs his hands and holds them further away from her–“but we’re supposed to decide the reward one would get if they won a round of poker with a straight—you know, the hand?”  
  
“Rude of you to assume that my hands are straight.” She giggles again. “But maybe... since I have to work for it—maybe the winner should get to take one of the loser’s clothes off.”  
  
“That’s the reward for the previous, weaker hand. That I came up with. Seconds ago.”  
  
“Uh... then maybe you get to take one of the other’s clothes off, _and_ tie them up with it?” He winks, and Amy blushes, remembering events from last night.  
  
“I love the sound of that,” Amy concurs. “It’s too bad I’ll be the only one tying you up this time.”  
  
_**6\. Flush** _  
  
“Starting to think that we’re really stretching this stripping theme to its limits,” Amy remarks as they brainstorm for a new reward.  
  
“Is that such a bad thing?” Jake wonders cheekily.  
  
“No,” Amy says, to his delight. “But maybe we should try to think of other stuff that would be good rewards, stuff that’s unrelated to slowly getting naked. Or, this game is just going to be full of us stripping down, and taking each other’s clothes off.”  
  
“Again, would that be so bad? I mean, I get your point. But... hm.” His forehead creases in thought. “What is the one thing you want to do most right now, Amy?”  
  
“Uh–“  
  
“I mean, besides this super hot bod–“  
  
She snorts, shaking her head in disbelief. “You have no shame.”  
  
“But I’m right.”  
  
“No,” she disagrees, clearly out of spite, because she’s smirking at him. “What I want right now... is a hot shower. A long one. One where I don’t have to care about saving the hot water for you.”  
  
“How selfish,” he says, but not in a mean way, because he actually looks impressed at this hot shower idea as a reward.  
  
“I know,” she shrugs, looking equally proud of herself.  
  
“So what would you do in this shower?”  
  
She exhales in disbelief at his suggestive tone.  
  
“You’re hopeless.”  
  
_**7\. Full House** _  
  
“Okay, I know you said the stripping thing was kinda getting old, but—what if, you know, just to make sure we fully _exhaust_ the theme to be done with it—we make the loser take off all their clothes for the winner.”  
  
“You mean, like a strip show?”  
  
Jake’s face changes, like he just realized that, and Amy’s suggestion just changed his whole world.  
  
“Yes! Exactly like a strip show! Complete with a free lap dance.”  
  
Amy crosses her arms. “Well then, Peralta—I hope you know how to give a good lap dance, because it looks to me like you’ll be performing plenty.”  
  
He crosses his arms too, but he doesn’t look nearly as poised as Amy. “You better hope _you_ know how to give a good lap dance.”  
  
“I could lap dance you into heaven any day of the week—it’s too bad you won’t be getting it as a reward.”  
  
“But... would I get a lap dance if I asked really really nicely?”  
  
“Maybe,” she says, with just as much intensity as when she had been trash talking him.  
  
**_8\. Four Of A Kind_**  
  
“Okay,” Amy does some mini stretches as she thinks about this. “It’s been like, ten minutes, and we still haven’t come up with anything.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jake sighs. “I mean, when you think about it, there’s not that much cool non-sexy stuff we can do in this room for fun.”  
  
“Okay, then what do you want to do most?” Amy inquires. “Since we made a reward out of what I wanted to do, maybe we can make that happen for you as well.”  
  
“I feel like having a pizza bagel,” he answers immediately, so quickly that it’s most definitely a genuine desire. And it almost offends Amy, except she doesn’t get offended, she’s at most exasperated, somehow endeared by Jake’s devotion to the snack.  
  
“You had a pizza bagel yesterday,” she points out, which gets him taking offense, which is understandable, because she is totally judging him.  
  
“Exactly! Which means I haven’t had any bagel action today!”  
  
“But Jake, that’s hardly a reward. Because you’re gonna eat a pizza bagel whether or not you win, and I don’t find eating a pizza bagel to be a great reward for myself.”  
  
“Fine, you’re right.” He sighs, looking at her, in that special way he does. “Well... you know what else I want most. It’s always you, babe.”  
  
“What do you want to do to me?”  
  
“Oh, so you want like, a list?”  
  
They end up deciding on hand stuff. Which, depending on which Urban Dictionary definition you subscribe to, means either second or third base.  
  
**_9\. Straight Flush_ **  
  
“Oral?”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
**_10\. Royal Flush_ **  
  
“Come on, let’s be realistic. Neither of us will be getting a royal flush. The probability of that happening is a mere 0.0032%. It’s just, it’s just not happening,” Amy exasperates, nearly laughing at the ridiculousness of this whole situation. They’re deciding upon different rewards for all the different poker hands. That’s so specific! Who would do that?  
  
Jake leans back in his chair watching Amy unapologetically be herself. “Chances are that low, huh? So... let’s say I got a royal flush. What would you be willing to do?”  
  
He swears, her voice drops an entire octave when she says her next words.  
  
“Oh, anything.”  
  
His heart runs so fast, he completely drops the insinuating, suggestive tone he’d usually adopt. His voice falls low too, low and deep. Deep like his feelings for her. Low like his current blood pressure.  
  
“Any... anything. Anything?”  
  
“I’d go as far as to say—if either one of us scored a royal flush, this entire stakeout would end immediately, on our terms. And we’d have all the sex we wanted.”  
  
She makes this declaration with a sort of confidence that... arouses Jake. But that’s not the surprise. The surprise is how serious Amy sounds about this, how she maintains a (very hot, albeit a weird way to describe) solid eye contact with Jake, how she’d actually keep her word. She’d actually... break the rules. For Jake. With Jake. Rolling under and around the sheets with Jake.  
  
“And we wouldn’t stop? We’d just... keep having sex?” Jake bites his lip at some point as he confirms all this, because the very notion is something he nearly cannot bear. It’s something he’s wanted so bad, she’s someone he’s pined after for so long—and as lucky as he has been to have received the things he has from her—the thought of finally having sex with Amy, pushing himself inside of her, seeing how much of him she can take... he can almost taste how close it is, and it is delicious.  
  
“Of course,” she crosses her legs enticingly. “I’d let you do anything you wanted.”  
  
It’s almost as if there’s a living creature between his legs, given how he responds, wanting her to the point where it cripples him again.  
  
“You’re... awesome.” He stops there. His mind can’t process any more words.  
  
She chirps with a slight giggle, and her smile is sneaky and powerful, all-knowing, well aware of the effect she can have on Jake Peralta.  
  
“Bear in mind though, I’m only saying this because there’s practically no chance of that happening. I’m sure we’ll remain focused on working this case until tomorrow, when we actually get to leave.”  
  
Also known as, when the fun is _technically_ supposed to start.  
  
“I know, I don’t care,” he says with a conviction. “Just... the thought of, the thought that there’s at least a 0.0032% chance of us going all the way today instead of 0%? Drives me crazy. That’s how badly I wanna get in your pants.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1542 HOURS**  
  
“I see your three gummy bears, and I raise you a Reese’s peanut butter cup.”  
  
To facilitate the betting process of the game, Jake and Amy have substituted poker chips with all the random snacks and candy they could get from the vending machine, which includes an actual pack of chips (edible!).  
  
Thus, in addition to the reward one would get for winning with a particular hand, Jake or Amy would also get all the sweets bet during that round. Which they get to keep to rub in how much they’re winning in the other person’s face (as one would do if they were raking in poker chips in the actual game), or if they’re Jake, they’re usually eating some of their poker candy because they felt snacky.  
  
As Amy had fairly predicted, their first few rounds end in high card wins, with Jake and Amy grasping at straws to try and trash talk each other.  
  
Thankfully, the first legitimate win comes sooner rather than later. It’s a relief, obviously, because there’s only so many times they can say ‘hah! looks like you’re buying dinner’ and all its variations.  
  
Jake smacks the cards down on the table triumphantly when he shows his winning hand, excited beyond belief and ready to rub the fact that he’s the first person to win a game with something that’s not a high card in her face. He stands up, presenting himself to the room like he has an audience that extends across their one bedroom, pretending to have crowds of adoring fans all believing in him when in reality it’s just him and Amy in a room alone together.  
  
**Pair: Winner Gets To Make Loser Take Off An Article Of Clothing Of The Loser’s Choice**  
  
“Read it and weep, darling,” he declares, somehow still full of charm, his words flowing beautifully from his mouth.  
  
“Yes, yes, congratulations on your pair of fives,” Amy responds with a dry sarcasm, acting unimpressed (which she is, mostly) but also a tiny bit jealous. “Can we start the next round now?”  
  
Jake shakes his head, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Of course not. Because I’m obviously cashing in my reward now.”  
  
Jake and Amy are allowed to decide when they want to “cash in” their rewards for the rounds of various games. Of course, some of the rewards they decided on could potentially derail the flow of the game, thus rewards like a gratuitously long hot shower could, in theory, be used immediately, but it would also affect their enjoyment of the game less if that reward were collected after they stopped playing.  
  
Theoretically, Jake could save up his ‘Amy Has To Take Something Off’ wins until she has to take all her clothes off, thereby giving him a complete strip show. But Jake’s never been one to scrimp and save so he can win something worthwhile in the end—he wants instant gratification, so if Amy’s ready and willing to take a shirt off for him—that shirt is coming off.  
  
Amy rolls her eyes affectionately. “Fine, let’s do this.”  
  
Of course, Jake doesn’t expect her to actually take her shirt off, especially not when she’s got that blazer of hers on. Obviously, she’s going to take that blazer off first to rub it in his face—but even getting Amy’s blazer off her shoulders is an achievement to Jake.  
  
Which is why, when Amy’s fingers reach for her blouse instead, Jake starts getting all blubbery and nervous.  
  
“Wait wait wait what are you–“  
  
Amy’s fingers freeze, halfway down her shirt already, several buttons skillfully undone by her ever so capable fingers.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I thought, I just. I just thought you’d be taking your jacket off.” He gulps. “I dunno.”  
  
Amy feigns innocence and confusion. “Did you want me to take my suit jacket off?”  
  
“I mean–“  
  
“It’s too bad you don’t have a choice,” she’s smirking widely now, almost laughing at Jake’s shell-shocked face. “Maybe snag a bigger win next time, then you can tell me what to do.”  
  
The way she says that... is so hot Jake nearly gets a nosebleed.  
  
She shrugs off both her jacket and shirt, revealing a luxurious purple bra. It looks so good, and Jake wants to see more of Amy’s underwear collection, preferably being presented by her, watch her parade around in them. She then puts her blazer back on, and suddenly she’s a whole different level of sexy.  
  
“Done,” she says, smug, full of herself. It’s a look that’s chock full of pride. “Next game?”  
  
Jake gulps, unable to take his eye off her, unsure over whether he’ll be able to take his eyes off of her at all, and looks at his cards.  
  
“Uh, yeah.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1607 HOURS**  
  
“Read it and weep, Peralta,” Amy slams down her cards with an air of arrogance that she deserves to have. “My flush beats your three of a kind.”  
  
**Flush: Winner Gets A Hot Shower Where They Can Use All The Hot Water**  
  
**Three Of A Kind: Winner Gets To Take An Article Of Clothing Off The Loser**  
  
“Damn it!” Jake huffs, actually sort of angry he lost, not at Amy of course, and not exactly at himself either—he just hates how close he was to taking something off of Amy—only for her to beat him. “I lost a whole pack of peanuts!”  
  
And also he’s unhappy about the peanut thing. What? They’re good peanuts, he can be unhappy over two things.  
  
“I guess that means I get a hot shower, and you don’t get to take my clothes off,” Amy taunts him, saying her words in a provocative manner. The look on her face is infuriating as hell, and it really rubs in the fact that he’s not getting any.  
  
“Can I at least help you take your clothes off before you go in for your shower?” He offers alluringly, eyeing her body which sends the tiniest of shivers up and down Amy’s spine.  
  
“No, because I’m not showering yet. I’ll do that later—because I want to kick your ass a few more times at poker, maybe work up a sweat somehow.”  
  
Jake has a sudden thought, which causes him to look up. “Wait, what happens if you win using a flush again? Do you get two hot showers? How would that work if the point of the reward is to waste all the hot water? What if I won with a flush too?”  
  
Amy freezes up because Jake is making a very valid point. “Huh. Wow. What a plot hole.”  
  
“I know, right? We really should have thought that one through.”  
  
Amy folds her arms, smirking. “Guess that means any more flush wins after this are all invalid! Say goodbye to all your hot water Jake. At least for the next twelve hours.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1621 HOURS**  
  
Amy Santiago... wears matching underwear.  
  
Or at least, she wears matching underwear sometimes, and this is one of those times.  
  
Jake is beginning to wonder if Amy Santiago taking her clothes off is supposed to be a reward for him or her because—the way she currently takes off her pants—so slow, so sensuous... it makes his lungs contract. She’s not taking them off to get the stripping over and done with, she’s not trying to carry out her punishment.  
  
She’s trying to seduce him with her every move, and they’re all moves that work. His eyes follow the way her hands push her trousers down from those exquisite hips, down down around her ankles, her ass sticking out more than it needs to in the process, clearly presenting it to him, not at all subtle.  
  
Slow, slow.  
  
His mind frustrates over how she’s choosing not to take her blazer off again, the most obvious thing anyone would take off first while playing any form of strip poker, if they were wearing a blazer while playing strip poker. Weirdly, it’s like a power move; wherein Amy takes off clothes that would reveal so much more than necessary at that stage in the game. She’s clearly trying to rile him up, throw him off his game, gain control over him, and this ‘punishment’, making every passing second harder for him.  
  
Finally, she steps out of her pants and looks at him, smirks proudly at his state. He clearly looks like he’s having a lot of difficulty keeping it together.  
  
“Everything alright?”  
  
She clearly asks this only as a means to provoke him more, and he nearly seethes at how annoyingly hot she is. She’s _push-all-the-cards-off-the-table-and-fuck-her-on-top-of-it_ hot—and it’s not like she’s not constantly hot—but right now she’s messing with him on purpose and her highly bangable body is getting harder to ignore.  
  
“I haven’t been alright in days.”  
  
“You poor thing,” she coos, pretending to exhibit genuine concern, crossing her legs on purpose, her hand slowly sliding up from thigh to knee.  
  
“Don’t pretend you weren’t—don’t act like you’re all innocent, when... when you were...” He gives up, mind a muddled mess, sighing so forcefully it actually hurts somewhat.  
  
“I was taking off one of my clothes. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? Isn’t that what you wanted?”  
  
“Of course, it’s just—you’re making it hard to focus.” He forcefully tousles his hair. “I just wanted to be casually turned on, not... super distracted. I’m not going to be able to think with you like this.”  
  
“Well, I guess that means you’ll be losing a lot more games then,” she simpers, smug.  
  
For a second, his desire to win overshadows his desire for her.  
  
“In your dreams, Santiago.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1639 HOURS**  
  
Amy’s laughter drowns the room as she sets down her cards again.  
  
“Are you kidding me?!” Jake sulks in indignation. “This... how does this count? We both basically got the same thing! Shouldn’t it be a tie?”  
  
Amy bounces over to Jake’s chair, sliding her arm around his shoulder. “I win because my straight’s highest card was bigger than your straight’s highest card. Queen beats Jack.”  
  
**Straight: Winner Gets To Take One Article Of Clothing Of Off The Loser, Then Tie Them Up With It In Any Way They See Fit**  
  
“More like... Queen Amy bullies super Jacked Jake and won’t admit that it’s a tie and that neither of us won this round,” he grumbles.  
  
“Oh, babe–“ she kisses him on the cheek and he softens, melting because of her–“don’t be upset.” She rubs his shoulder. “It’s not your fault I’m so much better at poker than you are.”  
  
He scowls at her offendedly and her laughter rolls out instantaneously in response.  
  
“If you weren’t so cute and hot, you’d be on thin ice for that,” he playfully warns.  
  
“Don’t get mad at me. I mean... all you have to do is let me take off one of your clothes and tie you up with it. You’d be completely at my mercy. All mine for the taking.” Her hands roam his chest as her arms wrap around him from behind. Her breath is warm against his ear and he’s slowly losing it for her again. “Don’t you want that?”  
  
“Hell yes.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
She moves back to her seat after that, leaving him confused and hanging again.  
  
“Amy?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Aren’t you—aren’t you gonna do all that? Like, now? Me at your mercy and stuff? You doing whatever you wanted to me?”  
  
“Oh, not now, obviously. How would you play poker if you were all tied up?”  
  
He swallows, nodding rigidly. “Right.” He exhales, eyes meeting her inviting ones. “So... this tying me up thing... it could happen at any time?”  
  
“Exactly.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1658 HOURS**  
  
She turns around, facing away from him as she stands up, shrugging off her blazer, finally.  
  
Jake chuckles. “Really? You’re not even letting me see your face?”  
  
He thinks he’s finally gotten her to take off her suit jacket. She just stands with her back facing him now, in her underwear, and it’s a treat to look at even from behind. Truth be told, Amy looks fantastic from every angle, and obviously, getting to see her in her underwear is the icing on the cake.  
  
But then Amy does the unthinkable. She reaches behind for her bra and undoes the clasp, letting it slip off her body and fall to the ground. Jake is taken aback by this, because Amy is only supposed to take off one article of clothing, and she already took her blazer off, so why is she–  
  
Unless...  
  
Oh god. Jake nearly lets out a choked gasp when Amy puts her blazer back on, leaving Jake to realize that taking her bra off had been her plan all along, and she only took her blazer off because it would be impossible to undo her bra otherwise.  
  
She buttons her blazer, and when she turns around it cleverly hides and exposes different parts of her chest, something which drives Jake crazy. Why this woman wants to drive him to an early grave is beyond him.  
  
“You know, this is starting to make it look like you have an unhealthy attachment to your blazer.”  
  
She laughs.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1717 HOURS**  
  
“I want your leather jacket,” Amy says immediately after presenting her two pair with pride.  
  
**Two Pair: Winner Either Gets To Put One Of Their Clothes Back On Or Steal One Of The Loser’s Clothes To Wear**  
  
“You want my what? Why would you want my leather jacket? You’re already stubbornly wearing a blazer.”  
  
“I know. I still want it.”  
  
“I’m not even wearing my leather jacket right now,” he sighs, as he goes up to retrieve it.  
  
“Just hand it over.”  
  
She drapes his leather jacket over her lap, and it makes him worry.  
  
“Are you cold?”  
  
“No, I’m fine,” she smiles, not shivering or showing any signs of being cold.  
  
“Then why are you putting my jacket over your lap?”  
  
“Why not? I mean, technically I’m still wearing it right?”  
  
He accepts this, but is highly wary of her, even though he has no idea what she’s planning on doing.  
  
He gets his answer the very next game, when he wins with a pair again. Amy actually smiles when he wins, instead of pouting, or looking disappointed, and he finds out why.  
  
She turns around again and shrugs off her blazer, before putting on his leather jacket.  
  
Any breath he was holding falls right out when she sits back down in her chair. The leather jacket, which she has elected not to zip up, reveals just a little more than the blazer did, and there’s something so wildly titillating about her being in his leather jacket. Something so maddening as well, because his imagination runs wild with this image. He badly, badly wants to drag Amy to bed with him, pin her to the mattress and pull apart the lapels of his jacket, shove his face into her breasts and make her moan uncontrollably, make her shriek and whine and plead for him. Make her feel sorry for all the suffering she’s putting him through.  
  
“This is crazy, this game was supposed to distract me, at least a little, from how badly I wanna fuck you—and then you’re doing stuff like that, and, and—making this worse.”  
  
Amy’s eyes drift to the window, ignoring him. “There’s something going on outside.”  
  
Jake doesn’t know whether to be relieved or even more frustrated about the fact that they’re stopping the game to do work. Because on one hand, Amy won’t be torturing him for a while, but on the other hand, she’s going to be conducting surveillance, doing her usual cop stuff—all while in that get up.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1746 HOURS**  
  
“All in.” Jake declares without a shadow of doubt, pushing all his snacks forward. His confidence is unyielding, and the self-assured smile he has on his face worries Amy.  
  
“All in? You mean, including your two bottles of orange soda?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And all five flavors of your fruit roll ups?”  
  
He leans back in his chair, smile charming as ever. “Exactly.”  
  
“Plus the gummy bears?”  
  
“Every last one.”  
  
She crosses her arms. “Aren’t you afraid of losing everything? You know the game effectively ends if you lose all your betting chips, right?”  
  
“If you somehow have better cards than me, that would be even better, and I wouldn’t care about playing poker anymore.”  
  
Amy quickly analyzes Jake’s words and comes to a conclusion. What would be the best case scenario, that would benefit Jake even if he lost?  
  
**Royal Flush: Winner And Loser Give Up On The Surveillance And Have Mindless Sex**  
  
Right. Of course that’s what Jake would want. That’s what Amy would want too, even though she’s pretty sure that Jake doesn’t have a royal flush, because there is nothing better than a royal flush.  
  
So what is the strongest hand right after a royal flush?  
  
**Straight Flush: Loser Performs Oral Sex On The Winner**  
  
She feels herself get nervous yet excited at that notion. Obviously, she’s wondered, occasionally fantasized, about how Jake would taste, how he would feel like in her mouth. She hadn’t expected it to happen this soon, but the thought of going down on Jake, sucking on his hard cock until he screams... she feels herself getting more aroused just thinking about it.  
  
“Show me your cards,” she commands, and he does exactly that, one card at a time, overflowing with pride, because getting such a huge hand despite being an inexperienced player is a big deal, and also, the reward he’s about to get for this hand is downright spectacular in his eyes.  
  
“I believe you know what that is. And I think it’s obvious that I want to cash in my reward now.”  
  
It’s a straight flush, as Amy had predicted. It’s quite beautiful to look at, actually. What’s even more beautiful to consider is the act that’s to come.  
  
“Of course,” Amy responds knowingly, already thinking about how she’s going to wipe that smug look off Jake’s face with her lips, maybe even just her tongue, maybe even just a single lick would be enough to tear him down.  
  
Jake worries about Amy’s mellow response.  
  
“Unless, uh, of course, you don’t want to do this now. If you’re not feeling up to it that’s–“  
  
“Oh I want to do it. I want to do it now, too. But–“ she stands up, stepping over to Jake’s chair schemingly–“I would also like to cash in a reward of mine. Right now.”  
  
“And what is that babe?” He asks this so considerately, with so much affection in his eyes, that Amy feels she could ask anything of him and he would let her have her way.  
  
“Remember how one of my rewards involved getting to take off one of your clothes–“ she begins undoing the buttons of Jake’s shirt as she speaks–“and tying you up with it?”  
  
He gulps at the way Amy’s fingers delicately undress him. “Yeah.”  
  
“Well, I’m cashing that in now,” she says, almost redundantly, because she’s gotten Jake’s shirt off now, and she’s tying his wrists to the armrests using the long sleeves of one of his trademark flannel shirts. “Can you move?” she asks when she finishes the deed.  
  
He struggles against the restraints in an experimental way. “No.”  
  
“Perfect,” she purrs, getting on her knees before slowly sliding a hand up Jake’s thigh, watching in satisfaction as he squirms, shivering at her touch.  
  
“Please,” he murmurs weakly as Amy’s fingers graze the tent in his jeans, the material being stretched to its limit, hurting his arousal.  
  
“I’ve barely touched you,” she remarks, as if to shame Jake. “Yet look at you. Do you get this hard for anyone else?”  
  
He shakes his head profusely, his earnestness meant to show his sincerity. “No babe, no one else, just you,” he exhales harshly, eyes glued to Amy. “I wanna fuck your mouth. Please just—touch me?”  
  
“How impatient.”  
  
“Only for you.”  
  
Relenting, she unbuttons his jeans and unzips it, causing him to let out a soft sigh. Pulling his erection out from his boxers is what gets Jake feeling relief.  
  
She stares at it in slight awe for a second, this being the first time she’s really gotten the chance to properly look at him, properly admire him. He’s certainly... impressive, and she knows from earlier events that his cock feels good to rub against—and now she’s thinking about him being inside her again—with a visual reference, for god’s sake, and it’s making her throb for him, as his arousal now throbs for her.  
  
“Amy?” He’s calmed down slightly, still feeling very much in pain from how badly he wants her pretty lips sliding down his cock, but she’s just. Staring at him. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I like you.”  
  
His lips spread across his face in a smile. His ego feels amazing, by the way, thanks for asking.  
  
“Are you talking to me, or my penis?”  
  
“Can’t it be a bit of both?”  
  
With that, she starts to lick one long strip up his shaft from base to tip, holding onto his thighs to keep him still. He lets out a deep, guttural sound that drags on for the whole duration of her lick. She grins, planting a soft, wet kiss on his cock. The way he trembles at this spurs her on, and she drags kisses all over his length, giving yet also withholding pleasure, but her kisses are full of affection and every little thing she does drives Jake nuts, so it pays off.  
  
Her hands dips down between her legs and Jake almost convulses at the thought of her jerking off while she gets him off with her mouth. But then her hand reaches back up and she wraps it around his cock; he realizes that she’s taking advantage of her own arousal as a form of lubrication, her hand sliding up and down to spread it all over, because obviously the best way to give a blowjob is to use your hands (do not fact check this).  
  
“Fuck babe, you were so wet for me?”  
  
“Mhmm,” she goes, before hollowing out her mouth and pumping Jake’s cock with it, up and down with smooth, languid motions.  
  
“Shit, oh–“ oxygen forces its way down Jake’s windpipe as he inhales–“damn it, damn it Amy I...”  
  
He continues to make many incomprehensible and sometimes inaudible words and sounds, biting his lip hard as Amy goes faster, builds up a steady momentum. She truly is good at everything she does, and he’s about to have a mind blowing orgasm because of it.  
  
“Ames...”  
  
She makes some sort of sound in response, which is commendable given how her mouth, which usually makes words and sounds, is currently incapacitated.  
  
He’s calling for her attention because he knows it would be rude to climax without giving Amy some sort of warning first. What if she choked on his semen? That would make for a horrible first oral impression.  
  
“I’m... close. Care–“  
  
She stops completely. She stops, she actually _stops_ , lifts her head up (making him regret giving her a heads up), no longer blowing him, gives him a nice, wide, smile.  
  
“You were saying?”  
  
He sighs, very much annoyed at how she’s definitely doing this on purpose, wondering how betrayed he should feel, because she obviously planned this to some degree.  
  
“I’m close. Or, was close. To coming. Can we get back to that please?”  
  
Amy grins. “That sounds like a great idea, Jake.”  
  
He exhales in relief. “Great, so we’re on–“  
  
“For you. Bet you’d love to come in my mouth.”  
  
He shifts in his seat, wishing, praying, silently begging for some sort of release, some sort of friction.  
  
“Only if you’d be into that.”  
  
“Of course I’d be–“ Amy trails slowly, starting to pump his dick with her hand again, comforting him because maybe Amy’s mouth is just tired, and she’s going to get him off with her hands, her soft and talented hands–“but it’s too bad.”  
  
His entire gaze snaps. “Too bad what?”  
  
“It’s too bad I’m about to cash in another reward of mine.” She stands up, giving Jake a gentle kiss on the lips, both to appease him and to rub in the fact that he’s about to be left hanging. “I’m going to go get my hot shower now.”  
  
“Amy? Amy, please don’t do that. I know I didn’t let you come the other night but I made up for it! Please come back? I promise I’ll–“  
  
The bathroom door slams shut, effectively zipping Jake’s lips.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1802 HOURS**  
  
Jake is left sitting there, seething, yet somehow aroused by Amy leaving him there, letting him rot in hell. It feels like it’s been hours, and all he has is the sound of water hitting the ground as Amy has a hot shower.  
  
Mm. Amy in the shower. That image is really working for him, and that very reason is why he should not be thinking about it, because it’s just making things worse. And because Amy tied him up, he can’t take care of himself.  
  
Unless... Jake bends over, using his teeth to sort of gnaw, bite at the knot, tries to undo it by dragging parts of the sleeve with his teeth. It’s a slow process, but it’s working, and Jake has time to think about what his plan of action is. What will he do when he gets free?  
  
Does he confront Amy? Stay there and finish himself off? Join her in the shower and forgive her because technically he knows this is revenge for last night when he also had her restrained and denied of an orgasm? Man, he really does love digging his own graves.  
  
At that very moment, Jake’s phone starts ringing, which means he has no time to slowly think about what he’s going to do, and he starts desperately pulling at the knot until it’s loose enough to break free from using his strength.  
  
With the hand that he’s freed, Jake lunges forth to answer the phone, his urgency caused by the person listed on the Caller I.D.  
  
It’s Captain Holt.  
  
“Hey... Cap,” he greets as casually as he can, albeit dragging out the ‘hey’ far longer than he should have.  
  
“Why do you sound slightly out of breath?”  
  
Damn it. So much for acting casual.  
  
“Uh... I was doing lunges?”  
  
“For what reason?”  
  
Jake gets this urge to scratch his head in thought, but he’s holding onto his phone, and letting go would mean the phone would drop into his lap, and his other hand is still tied up. Again, he can’t untie his other hand because his only free hand is holding onto his phone. It’s a conundrum, one that could have easily been avoided had he untied both of his hands before he answered the phone.  
  
“Uh... exercise. I was trying to exercise, to, to keep myself up. Because nothing much is happening on this stakeout today?”  
  
He’s not lying, except for the part about the lunges. He’s not sure when he last did lunges. He’s not even sure he remembers what lunges really are. But he is telling the truth about the lack of activity on his and Amy’s stakeout. Anything that happened today didn’t produce any new revelations. They’ve just mostly been collecting more of the same evidence; no new characters have entered the picture, the evidence they’ve been compiling is growing, but it largely implicates the same few people, again and again, it’s pretty much redundant at this point.  
  
“Ah, that is understandable. It also brings me to my point: I am putting an end to your stakeout with Detective Santiago.”  
  
Jake momentarily panics at the thought of this, the thought of being forced to pack everything and go straight back to work; leaving the enclosed haven/hell he’s shared with Amy for a week. How could he cope with having to do paperwork and whatnot when he knows that Amy likes him and wants him (sexually)? How is he supposed to sit at a desk across from Amy when all he wants to do is grab her face and kiss her pretty lips?  
  
“Uh, why, sir?”  
  
“As you have mentioned, Detective Santiago and you have compiled all the evidence possible for this location. I have reviewed the recent data sent in, and nothing I’ve seen confirms anything about anyone we don’t already have a staggering amount of evidence on. The two of you have done splendidly, and I commend the two of you for not requiring a relief team on such a long stakeout.”  
  
“Thank you, sir. So, what now? Do we pack up? Do we bring anyone in? What’s the plan?”  
  
Whatever the plan is, Jake has a feeling he’s going to hate it.  
  
“Intel we’ve gotten from one of our informants suggests that a major drop off will be happening tomorrow night.”  
  
“Cool. So, do you want Santiago and I to check out right now and bring back all the surveillance equipment? Who’s going to be in charge of the bust?”  
  
“There is no need for either of you to worry about that. Detective Diaz will be organizing the bust, as it is also pertinent to her ongoing case. Neither you nor Santiago will be required to assist.”  
  
Jake nods. “Right. Giggle Pig. So... if Santiago and I aren’t needed—why end the stakeout? What do you need us to do?”  
  
“What I need—is for the two of you to take a break. This stakeout has officially ended, but there is no need to return the surveillance equipment immediately. As long as everything is back in place by tomorrow afternoon, the two of you will be just fine.”  
  
“You...” Jake can’t believe his ears. “You’re giving us the day off?”  
  
“Precisely. The two of you must be exhausted. It is important to me that two of my best detectives recuperate so that you can continue to produce good work.”  
  
“So we can like... do anything we want?”  
  
Captain Holt hesitates for a second, because he’s suspicious of the way Jake phrases this. “Theoretically. Just make sure the surveillance equipment is not damaged.”  
  
In the background, Jake hears someone call Holt.  
  
“I have to attend to an important matter. Goodbye, Peralta.”  
  
“Bye!” Jake says cheerfully, smiling so widely he can feel his face get sore. He can’t believe this. He’s just gotten explicit permission from Holt to go have sex with Amy and not care about work!  
  
Okay, sure, Holt didn’t specify that, but the only thing that was holding Jake and Amy back at all, the only thing that prevented them from crawling under the covers together and staying there on purpose was this stupid stakeout. And now he’s just been told that he doesn’t have to work, doesn’t have to report back to work until tomorrow afternoon, doesn’t have to stare out the window and snap pictures anymore.  
  
Which means...  
  
Jake quickly unties his other hand, completely freeing himself, before prancing towards the bathroom, excitement following his every step.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1805 HOURS**  
  
“Hey Ames! Guess what?” He yells, lips a mere inch from the door. He does this deliberately, to ensure that Amy knows he’s cut himself loose. Figuratively, of course. Because what actually happened involved him pathetically biting at his own clothes.  
  
The tap turns off and Jake grins, because he can already imagine the look of shock on her face.  
  
“You got free.” A pause. “How?”  
  
“Let’s not get into that. Anyway, you’re right, but that’s not what I’m asking you to guess.”  
  
“What am I supposed to guess?”  
  
“Let me in and I’ll tell you?”  
  
“The door’s unlocked.”  
  
“I know, but I didn’t want to go in in case you don’t want me in here.”  
  
The door swings open then, and Amy stands there, naked, drenched, and it’s a lovely sight to behold. He subtly licks his lips as he eyes her gorgeous body, truly one to die for.  
  
“I always want you here,” she proclaims, before Jake pulls her in for a kiss, unable to hold himself back anymore, not caring at all that she’s completely wet.  
  
“Mm...” he hums, loving the feeling of Amy’s breasts against his bare chest, the sensations making him crave her more, wanting his skin against her skin even more. “You taste good.”  
  
“Aren’t you mad at me though?” she asks in between their wet, clingy kisses. “I left you there by yourself.”  
  
Obviously, she had been planning on going back, after her long shower, to finish him off. She just wanted to let him suffer for a bit, let him reel and yearn for only her touch, she felt a sense of power at knowing only she could make the problem between Jake’s legs go away.  
  
“You’ll know why I’m forgiving you soon.”  
  
“Is it because I did nothing wrong and you totally deserved what I did?”  
  
He chuckles, the look on her face is everything—it has this soft innocence to it, but also she’s not letting him forget that he did her dirty first—tit for tat, one orgasm denial for another.  
  
“Touché. But... no.” His hands start to roam her body, liking how he’s seeing all of her, in all her naked glory, enjoying this properly for the very first time, when he thinks about it. “Although, I will say that even if I didn’t want to forgive you... seeing all this would make me reconsider. How are you _this_ hot?”  
  
“You’re biased.”  
  
“Trust me, I’m not. You being super hot... it’s a universal fact.”  
  
She slides her hand up Jake’s chest appreciatively. “Thank you. But I think you’re getting sidetracked—what did you want to tell me?”  
  
“Holt’s giving us the day off.”  
  
Amy freezes, looking directly into his eyes, unable to believe this.  
  
“What?”  
  
“He’s ending our stakeout. We only have to report back and return everything tomorrow afternoon. We can do anything we want now.”  
  
Amy’s eyes start to get this suggestive spark about them, and her hands move to his waist, specifically, to his jeans, which he’s wearing properly again (it just seemed weird to walk up to the bathroom with his dick sticking out).  
  
“Anything?”  
  
“I see where your mind is going, and I love it.”  
  
In one swift motion, Amy tugs off Jake’s jeans, boxers and all, leaving him considerably naked as he steps out of his jeans.  
  
“So...” he starts off as Amy slowly stands back up, eyes roaming his body all the way. “Am I going to have to watch you take the rest of your shower, or can I join in?”  
  
She giggles, lacing her fingers with his. “What do you think?”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1809 HOURS**  
  
She starts dragging him towards the shower, only to let go at the last second, giggling as she slams the glass door shut in his face, holding it shut so he can’t get in.  
  
“I’d be really mad if you weren’t so cute,” he says, palms flat against the door. “You’re really cute Ames, but fun’s over. Please let me in now?”  
  
She smiles, continuing to hold the door shut. Jake doesn’t try and push against the door or anything, but his eyes yearn for her to let him be with her already. “Why should I let you in?”    
  
“Because I’m also very cute?”  
  
“That’s true, but... you’re supposed to be bribing me, Jake. That’s how this works.”  
  
“I think you know how you’ll benefit if you let me in,” he winks. “Everything you’ve ever wanted me to do to you in the shower, I’ll do it.”  
  
Amy bites her lip at this, and it makes him want to get in the shower with her even more.  
  
“What if the things I’ve imagined you doing to me don’t involve the shower?”  
  
“Then we’ll get out of here.”  
  
“But I want my hot shower.”  
  
“I’ll make it even hotter,” he says this in a near rush. “I’ll also, uh, wash your hair for you—just don’t tell Charles. He thinks it’s the most erotic thing and I don’t want to get him going.”  
  
Amy laughs at this. “I don’t think I want Charles to know about anything regarding us.”  
  
“Then he won’t know. Unless this becomes a... thing. An actual thing.” Jake gulps, because they haven’t actually discussed... what they’re going to be. What they are. At all. “But like, whatever.” He shivers.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“It’s starting to get a little cold out he–“  
  
Amy pulls open the door immediately and drags Jake in, his body nearly slamming against hers due to the confined space and the force with which she grabs him. She turns the water on and Jake feels incredibly soothed when he feels the liquid heat hit his skin.  
  
“God, that feels good,” he stares at Amy like she just saved him from frostbite, as she rubs his upper arms with her hands to give him some heat. It’s pretty much redundant given how hot piping water is drenching them both right now, but Jake doesn’t care. He’s reveling in the attention and love she doles out to him. “Wow, you really care about me, huh?”  
  
She stops her actions, shyly looking up at him. “I really like you, remember?”  
  
It takes every fiber of Jake’s self control to refrain from telling her he loves her then and there, and he has to shut himself up by leaning in and kissing his words away, printing them into her with his lips instead.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1825 HOURS**  
  
Jake and Amy stay in the shower until the water runs cold; stealing kisses, feeling each other up, tasting wet skin (the way this is phrased sounds gross, but Jake actually admits that he likes water now—as long as he gets to drink it off Amy). They laugh and they joke and they giggle, but more importantly they touch each other, get each other off.  
  
Although he promised to wash her hair, Amy ends up washing both hers and Jake’s hair while he eats her out, kneeling on the floor which may or may not be super gross, but Jake doesn’t care, because getting to taste her, make her moan, feel her grip onto his hair as she begs him for more... it’s worth any dirty floor.  
  
Also, Amy gave him a quick and hasty handjob as they made out, letting him come as hard and fast as he wanted.  
  
They would’ve stayed in there forever if the water hadn’t started to freeze them, they would’ve stayed in there forever if it weren’t super uncomfortable.  
  
Getting out of the shower together is fun in and of itself, because they get dried up, wrapping each other in warm towels, find a matching pair of bathrobes that they both wear, and it’s nice, so god damn freaking nice, to know that they can just take their time, relax, be giddy and happy and indulge, because they have the entire evening and night ahead of them, and it’s only just begun.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1831 HOURS**  
  
“I ordered dinner!”  
  
“What?” Amy, who’s blow drying her hair in the bathroom (because she just washed her hair, and leaving it wet wouldn’t be good), asks.  
  
“I said I ordered dinner!” Jake yells, maintaining the same level of excitement. He’s ordered what he supposes is enjoyable, yet date-appropriate food for room service. He’s requested for a few candles to be lit on the table he knows they’ll wheel to their room, based on past experience, when they ordered room service for lunch the other day. He specified that he was really trying to impress his wife (he said that to try and maintain the cover they took with the receptionist the first day just to be safe), and if they could please make it very special.  
  
“Oh, really?” Amy says after turning off the hair dryer, having heard Jake this time. “Thanks for dinner, even though it is your punishment.”  
  
**High Card: Person Who Gets Fewer High Card Wins By The End Of The Games Will Have To Sponsor Dinner**  
  
Jake lost the high card component of their poker game, which is partly why he ordered dinner. The other reason why he ordered dinner is because he wants to treat Amy right. He feels like they’ve gone about all of this in a not so conventional way—he hasn’t even asked her out on a proper date yet, but they’ve already done and seen so much more than he ever imagined he’d get to do or see with Amy.  
  
Obviously, he loves it, but it does leave quite a lot of room for confusion. Asking Amy to be like, his girlfriend or whatever right now would feel clunky. He doesn’t want to kill the mood. Both of them just got out of rather serious-ish relationships, and sure, this feels so good, and so right, and Jake wants nothing more than to be with Amy—but what if that’s not what she wants? She likes him, she’s attracted to him, sure, but what if that’s all there is to it?  
  
“Come here,” he beckons, petting the space next to him on the bed, feeling himself get warm as she approaches, his heart nearly exploding when she gets close, snuggling up to him, wrapping an arm around his waist as they half-sit, half-lie in bed. “I have something to show you.”  
  
Her eyebrows twerk in reaction, shifting in place, crossing her legs loosely as she watches him reach behind him, revealing five poker cards—specifically, those that make up a royal flush—as well as a condom.  
  
**Royal Flush: Winner And Loser Give Up On The Surveillance And Have Mindless Sex**  
  
She chuckles. “Real subtle, Jake. I definitely can’t tell what you’re going for.” Her face shifts and she now looks at Jake with a sort of hunger. “It’s a good idea though. Although... I don’t think we’ll be needing that.”  
  
She grabs the condom in between his fingers and tosses it, to Jake’s shock.  
  
“Ames?”  
  
This prompts Amy to look slightly apprehensive. “I mean, we, we can and probably should use a condom, if that’s what you, what you want—but I’m on the pill. And truth be told...” her hand goes up Jake’s bathrobe and strokes him in between his legs, biting her lip as he stiffens, muffling a groan because he is incapable of not responding to Amy’s touch. “I don’t want anything separating us. I... want to feel you, Jake. All of you.”  
  
“Shit,” he twists the sheets in his fist as he slowly rocks himself into Amy’s hand, that gently pumps him into a hard state. “You really want me like that?”  
  
“Of course,” she leans down, kissing the tip of his cock, licking a sloppy circle around its head. “Look at you. Of course I want this, Jake. The question is: do you?”  
  
Her hot breath against his cock is more than he can take. He leans forward, simultaneously grabbing at Amy to bring her closer to him in a kiss, filled with a sort of frustration, fury, passionate need.  
  
“Of course, babe,” he rasps in between heated kisses, Amy’s hand still stubbornly pumping his cock into submission. “I think about coming inside you all the time, I want to feel you so bad–“  
  
“Then do it,” she says, almost daring him to, challenging him to. He responds immediately, undoing Amy’s bath robe, pulling away briefly to take off his own robe, watching in awe as Amy undresses for him again. It feels like winning the lottery, every time he sees her naked. So far, he’s won the lottery like, uh, twice? And winning the lottery twice is awesome. It’s even better than winning the lottery once.  
  
Jake wants to keep winning the lottery. But right now, he wants to fuck Amy Santiago until they’re both numb. His hand slides up her curves and grabs at her breast, squeezing it with a slight twist; watching the way her body moves is enticing and glorious in its own right.  
  
He crashes into her again, this time pushing her down on the bed as they make out furiously, hand slipping down to finger Amy, loving the way he draws out a muffled scream from her as he sends her into near oblivion from his touch.  
  
“God,” he breathes harsh as he starts kissing his way down her body, getting stuck at her neck because every inch of Amy’s body causes him to lose himself. “How could I not want to fuck you? Look at you–“ he marks her neck with his teeth, sucking hard to make sure she’s reminded of him for days–“see? Do you see how hot you are?”  
  
“No...” her hand slides up his back. “Show me.”  
  
He moves down to her chest, lips sucking in one of her mounds as he flicks her nipple with his tongue. She appreciates the sensations, gets so wet for him his fingers slip in like it’s nothing, pumping in and out, curling at the right spot, making her convulse at the way he has her: a moaning mess.  
  
“Jake, please,” she begs. “I need you to fuck me, fuck me right now.”  
  
So it’s a plea that turns into a direct command, and there’s no way Jake would say no to the woman beneath him, the woman who he’ll willingly be bossed around by, the woman who he’s certain will be his actual boss one day.  
  
Slowly, he guides the head of his cock between her folds, pushing himself in, biting his lip in an attempt to suppress a moan because she feels so incredibly warm and wet, pushes himself in as she grabs the bed, a pitched sound getting more twisted and needy the deeper he pushes himself in.  
  
“You good?” he asks, checking in because he doesn’t want to hurt Amy in any shape or form. “Feeling–“  
  
“Perfect. Please, just–“  
  
He gets the message immediately, holding her shoulder down as he pulls out halfway only to slam back in, gently, but he starts to get into a rhythm that Amy writhes against, a rhythm that feels so good, a rhythm that is raw and primal, a rhythm that has him going mad with pleasure because Amy feels so good.  
  
Their fingers interlock on one hand which is then pushed down into the mattress as they keep going, Amy squeezing his hand and making some sort of attempt at words, alerting Jake to her oncoming climax, prompting him to go faster and harder, something which gets her shrieking, and him edging closer to his own orgasm.  
  
He fucks her as she comes, draws out her orgasm, letting her enjoy every second of it, watching as she contentedly lets herself continue to get fucked, his hips moving in a fury against hers as he chases his own orgasm, possibly giving her a go at a second time as well.  
  
He pushes her leg up, spreads her apart wider for him as he finds a new angle, slamming in and out of her without abandon. When he comes, they both scream, and they ride this euphoric, heightened pleasure until Jake goes soft, pulling out of her slowly, watching his own seed leak out of her, enjoying the brilliant glow of their sex.  
  
He falls next to her, catching his breath, giving her a kiss on the cheek as he does, completely and utterly enamored by her, entranced by the fact that he actually got to be with her, that he got to make love to her, the girl of his sex dreams. And also his normal regular dreams. She’s the star of his subconscious, really.  
  
He could die now, and he’d almost be okay with it.  
  
Almost, because obviously, he wants to have sex with Amy again. And again. Is it possible to form a sex addiction to one person, after only experiencing it once?  
  
“You’re so good, babe,” he tells her as he pulls her close again, dropping appreciative kisses on her at random, kisses falling on her face, lips, shoulders like drops of rain. “That was amazing.”  
  
“I loved that,” she kisses him back, slow and sweet against his lips. “I already miss it.”  
  
“Cool,” he says, grinning. “Does this mean you’re...” he hesitates, unsure of what to say. He doesn’t want to be that guy who asks a girl to date him after sex, after all, but he also wants some kind of confirmation. “Uh... subscribing?”  
  
Yes. That seems... safe. And also very stupid.  
  
“To what?”  
  
“My penis.”  
  
She snorts, chortling like a free bird, her laughter singing through the air. “Oh my god.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 1943 HOURS**  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want me to push it in for you?” The steward asks with a befuddled glance at the way Jake only has the door opened a crack, his head sticking out in an almost suspicious manner. “It’s no trouble, really.”  
  
Jake shakes his head, carefully stepping out and shutting the door, not letting the man see anything in their room in the process. “No, it’s fine, uh—you can’t come in here, because my wife Amy is naked, and she’s... embarrassed of her weird body.”  
  
“Oh... okay,” the steward gives Jake one last bewildered and almost judgmental look before he turns around and walks away.  
  
Jake waits until the coast is clear before he knocks on the door so that a not actually naked Amy (she’s in her bathrobe, they both are, Jake was lying earlier wow) can open it for him to push their food in.  
  
Her eyes widen in surprise when she sees the spread laid out on the beautiful trolley, backing up in awe at the lengths Jake went to to make this dinner really suit her, suit them. She expected him to buy the cheapest stuff on the menu (he had once bragged about taking a girl out on the cheapest date ever after all), just a single order for each of them, and she assumed that in an understanding way—she had not expected Jake to go the extra mile at all, given the state of his finances, she herself wanted him to spend his money more wisely.  
  
But everything on the table is... incredibly impressive. There’s way more fruit than she thought there’d be, she sees a salad, a bread basket with a tiny assortment of flavors, alcohol, some chicken fingers, hot chocolate, orange soda served in a fancy glass, some potato pancakes, cheeseburgers, and...  
  
“I can’t believe you managed to get me pierogis,” she snorts as the table reaches the center of the room, or the center of the empty space in their room, prompting Jake to stop moving it.  
  
“I couldn’t afford to make you cranky,” he teases. “My girl needs her sweet fix.”  
  
Amy doesn’t blush when she hears Jake refer to her as his girl at all. Nope, no heat rises up her cheeks, she definitely doesn’t look down at her feet with a smile and feel a tingle spread all the way to her toes, not at all. “I feel like you exaggerate how much I like pierogis.”  
  
“No I don’t,” he strikes back with a knowing smile, and he’s right.  
  
He laughs when Amy pouts, hand stretching out to grab a pierogi and stuff it in her mouth, collapsing in her chair with a satisfied groan as she chews.  
  
She feels embarrassment cloud her mind as she swallows, looking away from the gaze Jake has on her. It’s almost like... admiration. Affection. Something pure is in his eyes, and he directs it all to Amy. He is the sun and she feels healthier and happier just by being around him.  
  
He is also the sun because he gave her a mad load of vitamin D earlier.  
  
“What?” she pipes up defensively. “Since it’s here, I might as well eat it right?”  
  
“Sure, sure,” he pushes the plate of pierogis closer to her, then takes a sip of his orange soda, you know, the one in the fancy glass. He nods approvingly at its taste.  
  
“How is it?” she inquires, sipping from her own cup of water that was also brought in with all their other food.  
  
“Tastes... exactly the same as the orange soda I have here,” he leans over, their mini fridge conveniently next to where Jake is sitting in order to make this declaration sound cool. He takes a large bottle of orange soda out of the fridge and gulps it down, refreshed. “That’s the stuff.”  
  
“Why would you order orange soda from the hotel when you already bought orange soda from the vending machine?”  
  
It’s a valid question, especially since Jake also bought a bottle of orange soda before they got to the hotel.  
  
“I wanted to see if it was different!”  
  
Amy cracks a smile. It is highly adoring in nature. “How different could it be? It’s orange soda, they all taste the same.”  
  
“How da—wait. Never mind, you’re right,” he takes another sip of orange soda from his fancy glass. “This still makes it feel fancier though.”  
  
“You mean, it’s worth the overpriced cup?”  
  
“No, not really, but there’s a reason I’m in crushing debt.” He sighs, desperately trying not to think about money, especially not after he spent a load of it. “Care for a slice of um... melon?”  
  
She beams, and for a moment, Jake forgets any problem he’s ever had in the history of his life. “Only if you feed it to me.”

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 2015 HOURS**  
  
She ends up sitting in his lap for a bit as they feed each other grapes, like what rich Greek royalty might have done in movies; they try throwing candy (leftover from their poker game) into each other’s mouths too, laughing at all the weird faces they pull as they attempt to catch skittles with their teeth, gummy bears on their tongue, they lose it over hilariously bad misses, often preceded by an overly confident taunt.  
  
“How are you still so bad at this?” Jake snickers, making a callback to that time they threw peanuts into each other’s mouths, you know, their date that wasn’t really a date that was also kind of secretly a really great date.  
  
“Don’t you mean how are _you_ still so bad at this?” Amy retorts, taking offense but going about it the wrong way.  
  
“Um, yeah,” his eyes crinkle in joy again. “That’s _exactly_ what I said.”  
  
She sighs, because he’s right. “Let’s meet halfway and agree that we both suck at this, and that neither of us should be declared champion of catching stuff with our mouths.”  
  
Jake nods (he's giving in even though he knows he's an expert with catching stuff in his mouth, he and Rosa have spent years building their friendship over it, but he wants to protect Amy's ego, so), smiling widely because he clearly thought of something. “You know what I’m good at catching with my mouth though?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Those lips,” he finger guns, gesturing to Amy, obviously, who rolls her eyes because he is ridiculous, and that was such a bad line.  
  
Still, she climbs back in his lap again and starts fervently making out with him.  
  
“Wow,” he rasps as his fingers push up her bathrobe, sliding up her ass with a feverish desire. “Can’t believe that worked.”  
  
“It didn’t work,” she reminds him, not letting him get away with his bad lines, hands cupping his face anyway because she can’t get enough of him.  
  
“Maybe this’ll work then,” Jake says smoothly as he works his knuckle against her folds, rubbing against her, pressing down at certain spots to get her yelping against his lips, his smiling lips, teasing her clit the way he quickly learns will both infuriate her yet have her wanting more, wanting so much more that she begins moving against his touch to get off.  
  
Her hand reaches down to start grabbing at and undoing the stupid knot he’s tied on his bathrobe, impatient and sloppy and reckless she is, her enthusiasm for him making him more desperate to be inside her too.  
  
“You want it so bad, huh?” he breathes against her neck, fingers still relentlessly slow against her.  
  
“Let me fuck you,” she demands, hand pushing Jake’s fingers aside to make way for his hardening cock. He gulps at the way she says this, authoritative, commanding, already prepped to take all of him. She’s so very eager, eager to ride him, and knowing that they had such good sex earlier Amy’s already back for seconds has him wanting her like you wouldn’t imagine.  
  
It also causes his ego to grow ten times its size.  
  
Amy’s arms are sort of propped on Jake’s shoulders as she positions herself, confidently taking him inch by inch, letting out some sort of whine as she does; Jake is no better, fingers digging into her waist as he feels her envelop him, sensations making him giddy.  
  
She grinds against his hips, takes the initiative to pull in and out, with Jake meeting her halfway, enthusiastically fucking her as he does.  
  
The air is infiltrated with an unpredictable combination of reactions, their sounds of pleasure as they have yet another round of mind blowing sex. They do not feel hunger, only that for each other, only that for skin hitting skin, the way they can make each other feel; they hunger for the way the world stops when they make love, the way the world ceases to exist, the way the world just becomes the both of them, Jake and Amy, nothing less, nothing more.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 2057 HOURS**  
  
“Mm... that is so good...”  
  
Although they don’t feel hungry during sex, when they were busy going at it wild, unhinged, they feel pangs of hunger once they come down from their highs. They’re ravenous for food now, simply put, and for a while they don’t interact as much and just... eat. Indulge. There’s this lack of shame that comes with it, because they’ve known each other for years, they’ve been friends for ages, and a few rounds of mad hot frickling and frackling will do nothing to change that.  
  
Of course, Jake can’t stop himself from talking to Amy for long. He truly is a slut for her attention, it’s an undeniable fact.  
  
“Hey,” he holds up his cheeseburger, the national food of their country, like the true patriot he is. “Wanna see who can eat their burger faster?”  
  
Amy shakes her head. “Eating too fast is bad for digestion.”  
  
“That’s the fourth potato pancake I’ve seen you put away in the past minute,” he points out teasingly, smiling at her.  
  
She presses her lips together, embarrassed because he’s right and calling her out for it. “I’m _hungry,”_ she argues, giving him a squinty look. “Shut up and eat your chicken fingers.”  
  
Jake, who had been eating chicken fingers, who was planning on continuing to eat chicken fingers, now feels that he must staunchly refuse to eat chicken fingers.  
  
He immediately picks up one of the pieces of bread, and tries taking a bite out of it.  
  
“Ow!” He pulls the rock hard bread, the loaf that feels harder than his dick has ever been, and grimaces at the horror his teeth has just been put through. He should really stop bragging about how he hasn’t been to the dentist in years and actually go to the dentist.  
  
“Are you okay? Why’d you do that?” Amy shoots out nervously, barely laughing because a part of her is still worried about Jake. “You should probably slice that and put some butter or jam on it so it’s easier to eat.”  
  
Jake’s jaw tightens as he nods. “Right. Should have thought about that.”  
  
“Here,” Amy reaches for a piece of bread herself, and starts demonstrating to Jake what she means... only to cry out in pain when she tries biting down on the bread too.  
  
“See! I wasn’t eating bread wrong, the bread was wrong! It’s wrong and hard and disgusting,” Jake crosses his arms as he stares resentfully at the bread.  
  
“What the hell was that?” Amy quickly washes the bread down with water. “Bread doesn’t do that, that’s not bread.”  
  
“I don’t know what to tell ya,” Jake shrugs. “Maybe try dipping it in hot chocolate?”  
  
Amy still looks disgusted when she tries the hot chocolate covered bread, something which should usually be a delight to put in one’s mouth. “I... don’t love it.”  
  
“Okay, let’s stop trying to eat sliced rock. Here, have a cheeseburger.”  
  
Amy takes a big bite of her burger, moaning in relief at the good food.  
  
“Amy, can I borrow some of your hot chocolate? I wanna dip my burger into it and see how that tastes like.”  
  
“No, because you’ll get a stomachache and we won’t be able to–“  
  
Jake grins. “To what, Ames?”  
  
She pauses pointedly as she chews and swallows her burger. “You know what I mean. No point in trying to pull it out of me.”  
  
Jake starts doing stretches. “Man, you want me in tip top shape huh?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, I do. So no dipping your burger into hot chocolate, or you can wave goodbye to a whole night of sex.”  
  
Two minutes later, Jake dips his burger into some hot chocolate. He convinces Amy to do the same another five minutes later.  
  
Hot chocolate dipped cheeseburgers... turn out to be not terrible.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 7 | 2248 HOURS**  
  
“Really, you’re gonna do this now?” Jake comments as he takes a swig of beer, watching Amy take down one of their cameras and attach the thing that protects the lens. There’s probably some actual name for that, but Jake’s too blissed out to care.  
  
“No, _we’re_ doing this right now,” Amy emphasizes, passing the camera to Jake to pack away while she takes their tripod apart.  
  
Jake complies with a sigh, starting to put away their binoculars too. “We could be doing literally anything else though. Like, anything. Weren’t you the one who wanted to do shots?”  
  
“Exactly. We’re not going to be in the mood to do any of this tomorrow, and if we wake up with hangovers, it’s just gonna be even worse.”  
  
Jake had been way too in the mood for stuff like over the top make out sessions with Amy everywhere and anywhere in this room that wasn’t too gross or uncomfortable, and this mood of his was the thing that made him at all cranky about packing up in the first place. But Amy Santiago is absolutely right as she always is, and her forward thinking mindset, the way she always considers the future instead of carelessly living life as each second passes like he would, letting problems that could easily have been avoided plague him like he would. She is utterly incredible, and for a moment Jake just freezes, overwhelmed by her greatness.  
  
It might come across as an over-exaggerated sentiment, a really simple thing to feel giddy about, a really stupid thing to feel his heart rush and flow over for. But Amy constantly makes him feel this way, and he can’t help but drop whatever he’s doing to give her a kiss.  
  
In doing so, he directly disobeys her orders, but it’s such a good kiss that Amy sinks into it, meets him with equal fervor, ignores how they’re on their knees right now, ignores how they’re surrounded with surveillance equipment, ignores how this kiss essentially throws a wrench in her packing up process.  
  
“You’re... absolutely right, babe,” Jake tells her, grinning, breathless, when they pull apart. “We should totally put all this stuff away now so we can focus on having way too much sex after.”  
  
Laughter rolls out from her effortlessly, like it always does for him, the pretty sound making him feel both calm yet nervous at the same time. “Glad you’re finally coming to your senses.”  
  
“I bet I could clean up my half of the surveillance equipment faster than you can.”  
  
She crosses her arms haughtily. “You wish.”  
  
“Loser does a strip tease?”  
  
“Deal.” They shake on it. “Now, let’s put back everything the way it was so that this competition is fair.”  
  
Jake actually goes ahead and does that, undoing the packing work he had already done, even though that would make them take an even longer time to finish packing. But he doesn’t care, not anymore at least.  
  
Because the truth is, Jake would love and enjoy almost any activity, as long as he got to do it with Amy, as long as they could be together. Work isn’t really work when she’s around.  
  
Jake ends up losing. Duh. His competitiveness is nothing compared to Amy’s organization skills. She packs her desk and reorganizes at least one aspect of her life on a daily basis. Jake never stood a chance.  
  
His stripping skills on the other hand? Let’s just say he’s glad he got the chance to show off.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 8 | 0121 HOURS**  
  
“Oh god...” Jake rolls away from Amy with a gasp, a pant. He signals for a timeout with his hands, before letting them collapse lifelessly on either side of him. “I think I’m out. I don’t think I can move anymore.” Using the very last ounce of energy he has, Jake turns his head in the general direction of Amy. “If you really want anything else I’ll just lie here and you can do anything you want to me.”  
  
He shuts his eyes and somehow manages to make his entire face squint, which makes Amy chuckle softly, something she had no idea was even still physically possible because she is also incredibly exhausted.  
  
“I think I might actually take you up on that offer,” she quips, right before moving over to Jake’s side of the bed and snuggling up to him.  
  
He looks down with the most heartening look at Amy, holding her close. He kisses her on the forehead, the kiss soft and lingering, his lips refusing to stray far even after he pulls away. “I like this,” he admits in a quiet voice, more vulnerable than he has been all night.  
  
“I like this too,” she responds, which relieves Jake to hear. “I think it might be my favorite part of the night.”  
  
Jake’s heart stops. He looks at her, trying to gauge what this is, what the meaning of her words are. “Really? Was the sex that bad?”  
  
Her head bumps against his chest as she laughs. “You idiot.”  
  
“You’re so good at describing me, Ames,” he continues to tease, as always masking his emotions with bad jokes.  
  
“I meant...” she pauses, taking a deep breath. “This is kind of the most meaningful part. Trust me, I will never forget the sex, and I’m going to want more of that at... a certain point.” Her fingers nervously splay out on his chest. “I just like being here with you. Getting to hold you... sleep next to you... and then, wake up tomorrow. With you still here next to me.”  
  
He just... stares at her. His tongue caught in his throat, no words rushing out from his lips like they usually would. He fails to run his mouth for once, because he can barely believe any of this is happening.  
  
Amy starts to look nervous.  
  
“Uh. You... feel the, the same way, right? I mean... this isn’t just about sex, right?” she fumbles around with her words, already fading away.  
  
“Of course it’s more than that,” he assures her immediately. “I want everything with you, more than you can imagine—just, I just—I can barely believe this is happening.”  
  
He bites back any urge to declare his love for her then and there.  
  
“Neither can I.”  
  
“Really?” he snorts, hand caressing her back, loving the intimacy more than he might care to admit. “You could’ve had me any day of the week. I... hit jackpot with you. You... you’re everything. To me, and to anyone with eyes.”  
  
“I disagree,” she says, something which nearly irks Jake. “I think you’re a catch,” she hums dreamily as she eyes him. “I could write a thesis about how great you are, and how lucky I am to be here, in bed with you, too.”  
  
“Damn,” he rasps. “I guess we’re both super dope people. Who... want to...”  
  
“Be together?”  
  
“Go out on a date together?”  
  
Amy laughs first, and Jake follows nervously after.  
  
“I like the date thing,” Amy says with a beam.  
  
“And I want to be with you. _With you_ with you. But yeah, the date thing. I really want that. Because we’ll uh, probably have sex after, and that’s always very good.”  
  
“I wouldn’t be too sure about the sex thing if I were you,” she teases, even though she knows that date will end in sex. “But the plan to go on a date sounds great,” she continues, stifling a yawn. “I think we should sleep.”  
  
“That also sounds like a solid plan. Good night, Ames.”  
  
“Good night Jake.”  
  
He reaches over to shut the light off, and just as soon drifts off to sleep with his beloved in his arms.

 

* * *

  
**DAY 8 | 1020 HOURS**  
  
Morning comes and they really do end up waking up in the same bed. Which really isn’t all that surprising because they fell asleep in the same bed, and neither of them planned on leaving the other.  
  
Also, they kind of can’t abandon each other because they have to check out of the hotel and return their surveillance equipment to the precinct, something which they have to do together because it’s their responsibility.  
  
But like uh... it’s still romantic?  
  
Because yes, of course it’s still romantic. Every moment they spend together... it feels like a progression of the greatest love story of their lives. They find these moments in the way Amy kisses Jake to wake him up, only for him to feign unconsciousness for more and more kisses. They find these moments in the way Amy catches Jake in the act, threatening to lock him out of the bathroom as she attempts to run off, only for him to pin her down with a hug, and then several butterfly kisses on her face. They find these moments in the way sweet becomes tender becomes heated, and then they have the best morning sex anyone has ever had ever (don’t fact check that).  
  
Their morning sex is fast, hurried, a dizzying array of lights also known as the sun, and also a little bit tired. But it feels good, and it pumps some adrenaline in them, and it wakes them up, and Jake thinks he’ll die a happy man if every morning could start with Amy Santiago spreading her legs open for him, letting him in, grabbing at his ass and telling him how much she likes it with a smack of her hand. And also with words, because she uses those to tell him how much she appreciates every inch of him, especially those inches she can feel inside of her.  
  
Morning sex is followed up with a morning shower, where they wash away the smell of each other off their skin, where they still can’t keep their hands off of each other somehow, where they giggle at themselves, whisper sweet nothings, get each other clean.  
  
Maybe Jake accidentally says ‘I love you’ under the hot loud spray, and maybe Amy doesn’t hear him and he pretends he said something else.  
  
Maybe they take forever to get dressed, because they are too good, far too good at distracting one another. Jake tells one too many jokes, Amy flashes one too charming a grin, says something too cute to handle, or too nerdy for Jake not to laugh at, even though he says so many nerdy things too.  
  
They’re just two nerds, who realize it’s far too late to have breakfast once they’ve gotten ready to leave, face the day ahead, leave their little bubble of confinement. Amy reminds the both of them that it’s probably best to get all the equipment back to the precinct as soon as they can, instead of stalling, because by doing that they have the entire day ahead of them.  
  
And they determine that the best time to go on a date is tonight. Because obviously, they don’t want to wait, and also with waiting comes potential challenges. Who knew how close their next big case was? Who knew how soon or far away they’d get piled up with work, forced to spend nights across each other at their own desks, instead of rolling around on a shared bed?  
  
Still, they stall, and it’s only after a long make out session and two quickies that involve backs being pressed up against the cracking walls of this hotel room that they decide on and actually end up leaving.  
  
“Good bye, place where I first had sex with Amy Santiago,” Jake says wistfully with a little wave before he leaves, mostly because he wants to get another cheap laugh out of Amy, but a part of him will never forget this place. Never forget how her skin glistened under the strange lighting of the place, never forget the way she smelled as he breathed her in, never forget the way she felt, under him, over him, around him, beside him, the dozens of ways he got to experience her.  
  
Then the door shuts and the room almost doesn’t matter because it’s Amy he’s got on the other side with him, it’s her that he will get to experience in hundreds of new ways, possibly thousands, depending on how long she chooses to stay. He already never wants to leave her.  
  
Every second from there on out feels inspiring and new. He sits in her car as she drives them back to the precinct and it makes him feel like a new man. Already, he is no longer just Jake who was a loser who had no chance with Amy, because now he is Jake who is a loser that slept with Amy multiple times, Jake who has a date with Amy, Jake who Amy has feelings for, Jake who can think of numerous things he wants to do to Amy in her car. Jake whose fingers are interlocked with Amy’s as she skillfully handles the steering wheel.  
  
They walk into the precinct and it’s like walking back home, but it’s also something else altogether. They’re not holding hands, obviously, but Jake knows in his heart that this all feels different. It feels good. It feels good to check back in all their cameras and stuff with Amy, have her be meticulous and careful and professional, the way she is, the way he loves to see her. Although, to be fair, he always loves to see her.  
  
Another thing that also feels good which Jake loves seeing is Rosa groaning at how he actually succeeded at staying for the whole stakeout with Amy, how he succeeded at what was probably the easiest thing in the world, because the truth is he would never want to leave a room if Amy was in it, he would never want to be in a room that Amy couldn’t enter.  
  
So she presses another fifty dollar bill in Jake’s palm, and he’s on his way, along with Amy, because they have a secret date to get ready for. He wishes Rosa good luck for the sting operation, which he has little need to worry for, as compared to the almost immediate, very much crucial decision he has to make—what sneakers should he wear?

 

* * *

  
**DAY 8 | 2020 HOURS**  
  
The date goes great—or well, it is going great. Jake hasn’t messed up catastrophically yet.  
  
He makes Amy laugh, he makes Amy smile, and sometimes he makes her look down with a little blush that rises up her cheeks.  
  
Amy also makes Jake laugh. Of course, him smiling is a given, he hasn’t been able to stop smiling all day, neither of them have, it’s fascinating how happy they make each other, and they can’t stop having the time of their lives.  
  
Their food tastes good, their drinks are amazing, they never run out of things to talk about it, because they can take the world around them and make it a topic in seconds; the weird guy who can’t stop adjusting his napkin at the other table, their heist-like plans to steal all the bread other patrons are somehow staunchly refusing to eat because _good lord_ this place has amazing bread, jokes about how the hotel bread sucked and how this restaurant’s bread rocks (not literally, the rock-like bread was back at the hotel).  
  
They talk so much, Jake constantly finds himself getting thirsty, as does Amy, which leads to more drinks being ordered.  
  
“Oh waiter,” he calls. “I’ll have _one_ more root beer, please.” He shakes his head as the waiter ignores him. “Man...”

**Author's Note:**

> please don't leave me yet i need comments and kudos and feedback to keep my family of -1 fed 
> 
> i am so tired please take pity on me 
> 
> yes i did end this fic with an oh hello reference 
> 
> i hope u enjoyed this fic to some extent 
> 
> i also hope you laughed at some point maybe smiled idk who knows
> 
> thank u so much if u finished the fic


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